Today 4 U: Proof Positive
by Angel Of The First Degree
Summary: Chapter 50 as of 6-8-04. COMPLETED RENTfic about Angel's past. Read and Review, please!
1. Default Chapter

Disclaimer: Okay, this is my first time ever posting. I've been reading these stories forever, and I decided to finally post something. I absolutely love RENT, and I thought it would be fun to write a fan fiction type thing about Angel, because he's my favorite character, and the show doesn't really reveal much about his past. I apologize for the chapters being kind of short. There's going to be a lot of them, but they're all going to be about the same length. Obviously, I don't own the characters, or anything about RENT. I wish like hell I did, but I don't. ( RENT and all the characters belong to Jonathan Larson. He's brilliant, and I don't want to mess with any of his work. All unfamiliar characters are my creation, though. A special thanks to Jai Rodriguez and Mark Richard Ford, my 2 favorite actors. They portray the love between Angel and Collins very well, and inspired me to write this. Reviews are welcome, but please, be kind. This IS my first time writing anything like this. Thanks so much, and I really hope you like it. 


	2. Chapter 1: Faggot in the Mirror

Chapter 1: Faggot In the Mirror  
  
"All I've got to do is march up to her, tell her I'm gay, and that'll be that," Angel said to his reflection in the mirror.  
  
"I can't believe I'm standing here talking to myself," the reflection said back. Angel continued to stare, and analyze his appearance. He had no facial hair, and flawless, caramel colored skin. He ran a hand through his black, curly hair. He hated his hair and considered wearing a wig quite a few times, but was always too poor to buy one. He turned sideways and noticed how thin he was. The deep-set amber eyes stared back at him.  
  
"I really do look like a fag," he said out lout and continued, "What the hell does Lenny see in me?" he sighed, "Oh well. I just have to do this."  
  
He straightened his rumpled t-shirt, and continued the conversation with his own reflection, "Mamma loves me, she'll understand." Angel tried to convince himself.  
  
With that, he shut the closet door and quietly trudged down the hallway of his family's apartment.  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
"Mamma?" Angel approached his mother with caution. He knew it would be one of the most difficult things he's ever done.  
  
"Hijo, what is it?" She responded. Angel looked at his mother, and saw a splitting image of himself, except she was beautiful. She, too, was thin and had the same caramel skin and amber eyes. She was born in Peru, and had the accent to prove it. When he was younger, Angel loved to listen to his mother speak. He started to let his thoughts wander to a time when he was young, and she would read him stories, and he would listen to his mother's rhythmic accent.  
  
"Nobody speaks like Mamma," he thought to himself, and then was shaken back to reality. "Shit, I'm stalling," he thought, and continued, "Mamma, I need to talk to you."  
  
"Angel, hijo, que es eso?" She asked him. She quietly embraced her son, and sat him down in the worn kitchen chair.  
  
"Mamma. I'm gay."  
  
Angel watched as the blood drained from his mother's face. Her frightened eyes looked up to the ceiling as she began to mumble things in Spanish.  
  
"Ay, dios mio, Angel. Ay ay ay," she continued to glance upwards and pray.  
  
Angel immediately regretted telling her, and began, "Lo siento, Mami. Te amo!" his voice began to get louder as his mother hushed him and began speaking.  
  
"Angel, I love you too, but I don't know if I can. Ay, Angel, what about Papi?" She shook her head and walked away, mumbling more prayers in Spanish.  
  
Papi. He forgot about telling his father. It wasn't that he forgot, he just didn't want to, because he knew what would happen when he did. Papi's a firm believer in the "man is superior" attitude, and Angel knew that he wouldn't stand to have a faggot for a son. He used to tell Angel every day that he needed to go to the gym and work out, get a job, find a girl, live his life. He hated the fact that his son liked to sing and dance, and that he liked to shop instead of play sports.  
  
Angel's thoughts were interrupted by the front door opening. Without even thinking, he ran upstairs and picked up the phone to call Lenny.  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
"Hello?" Lenny's voice answered sleepily on the other line.  
  
"Lenny?"  
  
"Hey baby," Lenny replied, immediately waking up, "What is it?"  
  
"I told Mamma. She's praying downstairs in Spanish. I don't know what to do!"  
  
"Alright, calm down. Did you tell your dad yet?" Lenny's voice had concern and compassion to it, and Angel knew that his boyfriend would be there for him, no matter what.  
  
"No, he just got home. I'm so scared, baby, I don't know what to do. What if they kick me out?" Angel was on the verge of tears.  
  
"If they do, you can come crash with me. My parents love you!" Lenny's parents didn't know that Lenny and Angel were gay, or that they were in love. His parents, nonetheless, had been warm and loving towards Angel since they first met him.  
  
"Thanks so much. I love you."  
  
"I love you too. Call me after you tell your dad. I'll make up a bed for you just in case."  
  
Angel replied, smiling, "We can't share a bed?"  
  
Lenny laughed and continued, "Come on, baby, you know my parents don't know. But we'll see. Maybe I'll 'accidentally' lose the extra set of sheets, or something."  
  
"Shit! My dad's coming. I'll call you later," Angel fumbled with the phone, and hung up before Lenny had a chance to say anything.  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
"So, Son, how was school today?" Angel's father asked him, giving his son a slap on the back. He was a strong man in his mid thirties. He looked nothing like his son, with his Polish descent. He had a slight accent. His body was firmly built, and he went to the gym on a regular basis. He stood a full head and a half taller than his son, and towered over him in spirit as well.  
  
"Um, it was fine, Dad, but I have something to tell you." Angel answered, awkwardly. He took a deep breath, afraid of what his father would do to him.  
  
"Did you find yourself a girl, Son?" His father asked, beaming with pride.  
  
"No, not exactly. Mamma already knows, she didn't say anything to you?" His hands were sweating, and he could feel his entire body shaking with nerves.  
  
"No, but she did seem a bit upset about something. What is it?"  
  
"Dad, uh I'm. I'm gay." Angel closed his eyes anticipating a slap from his father.  
  
"That's funny, Son, but what did you really need to tell me?" his father was still smiling that same, ignorant smile.  
  
"No, Dad, that's what I had to tell you. I'm gay."  
  
The beaming pride was erased from his father's face, his strong features twisting into a snarl of anger, "No son of mine will be a faggot!"  
  
"Stop! Don't say that!" Angel was hurt by his father's comment.  
  
His father put both his large hands on Angel's shoulders, threw him forcefully into the empty wall near him, and continued speaking, "You're a fucking faggot! You don't deserve to live in this house. Get out!" His father was yelling now, crushing his son's body into the wall.  
  
"Dad, where am I-"  
  
"NOW!" his voice boomed as he pushed him even harder, "Pack your stuff and leave. You're never living here again."  
  
Angel's father stormed out of his son's bedroom, leaving him on the floor of his barren bedroom. He took out his suitcases which he had packed this morning. He had a feeling that his father would throw him out, but he considered himself lucky that his father hadn't beaten him to a bloody pulp. Angel hung his head in shame. He was the ultimate disgrace to his family: No father wants a faggot for a son. 


	3. Chapter 2: Llora Con Mami

Chapter 2: Llora con Mami  
  
Angel looked around his nearly empty room. He would miss this place so much. It had taken him so long to pack all of his things, probably because he had been crying the entire time. He didn't want to leave. He knew if he did stay against his father's will, however, he would be beaten, badly. His father had beaten him numerous times before, and he had the bruises and scars to prove it, but he knew nothing would be as bad as feeling the wrath of his father after he came out. The beatings were one thing Angel wouldn't miss.  
  
The last thing he packed was the framed picture of his family. He, Mami, and Papi went on vacation in Peru three years ago to see Mami's side of the family. They were all smiling, and, for once, Papi wasn't drunk. He was smiling, too. He stared deeply into the happy, amber eyes of his 14 year old self, and then looked into the identical pair of eyes on his mother.  
  
"Mami," he said out loud. She was such a loving, caring woman. Angel's eyes welled up with tears as he looked at the picture of her. "I'll miss you." He spoke again. With one last glance around the room, he carried a suitcase in each hand and dragged them down the hallway.  
  
As he began to approach the kitchen, he could hear the faint cry of his mother. He looked into the dark room and saw Mami, sitting at the table, holding a sparkling golden cross in her hand, praying in Spanish. Papi looked on with icicle eyes, showing no emotion, whatsoever. Although he knew his father could no longer stand the sight of him, Angel walked into the kitchen, knelt down beside his mother, and held her hand, gently.  
  
"Mi hijo," she whispered, my son, as Angel held her tightly.  
  
"Te amo, Mamita," Angel whispered, and continued, almost inaudibly into her ear, "Me queda a Lenny's, escribame alla."  
  
His mother looked up at him, and said, once again, "Mi hijo." This brought a new wave of fresh tears, as she buried her face in her hands.  
  
"Go," his father commanded. Angel slowly stood up from his knees, looked his father straight in the eye, and stated, firmly, "I love you, Papi."  
  
Breaking their stare, his father glanced downward. Angel picked up his suitcases, and quietly left, taking his first step into the blistering cold. Alone.  
  
He looked back into the house, watching his mother drop to the ground. He could hear her screaming, "Mi niño," from outside. Angel began to walk to Lenny's, wiping away frozen tears. 


	4. Chapter 3: The Untold Story

Chapter 3: The Untold Story  
  
"Mi niño!" She wailed to the ice eyes staring down at her.  
  
"Lourdes, please-"  
  
"No, Walter. Quiero mi hijo!" she cried again, in vain.  
  
"We did what we had to do. He can't live here. No son of mine will be gay."  
  
"I love him," she whispered meekly, as Walter held her close.  
  
"I know, I know. We both do, but we did what was right. Jesus, we were practically asking for him to be gay, naming him after your faggot brother. Why couldn't we have named him something normal? I wanted Stanley, but you wouldn't have it any other way."  
  
"NEVER speak about Angel that way. You don't know him as well as I did. I just wish our Angel knew what happened to my brother," Lourdes sighed, as she glanced back down at the golden cross in her hand, her knuckles turning white from holding it so tightly.  
  
"He was gay. He got the gay disease. I can't live with my son if he's going to suffer that same fate. What we did was in his best interest," Walter stated, firmly.  
  
"You know perfectly well that it wasn't just a gay disease. It's AIDS. He died from AIDS, not from being gay. Why can't you just accept our son? You couldn't deal with my brother, but at least face your own son. He's your own flesh and blood, Walter. He's half of you," she yelled, then quieted, "He's half of you," she repeated.  
  
"I don't care if he's half of me, no son of mine will be a faggot! It's just a choice he made, and he has to live with it."  
  
"It's no choice! It's the way he was born he-"  
  
"I never gave birth to a faggot," Walter boomed.  
  
"Callate Walter! Don't talk that way! He's the same boy I gave birth to, he just loves differently," she pleaded desperately.  
  
"I can't accept him this way, I'm sorry, honey," he replied, without the least bit of resentment in his voice.  
  
"Then I can't accept you," she whispered, as she quietly walked down the hall to pack her belongings. She threw her golden cross at his feet.  
  
That night, she got a one way bus ticket to the Bronx to stay with her friend. 


	5. Chapter 4: Lenny, My Love

Chapter 4: Lenny, My Love  
  
The chilling February winter air was finally beginning to affect Angel. His hands were becoming numb, and the tears he had cried had long since frozen to his long eyelashes. New York City was not a fun place to be when you're gay, homeless, and miserable. He knew it was only a few more blocks until he arrived at Lenny's luxurious apartment. He's been there multiple times before, and always felt welcome there.  
  
"Of course I should feel welcome," Angel said aloud to himself, and smiled, "Lenny's the love of my life!"  
  
Angel met Lenny at City Public High School. They both went there, and were involved in the arts program. The majority of their classes were in the art wing, so they saw a lot of each other. They'd become close friends when they were assigned to work to together in improv class.  
  
Lenny was a jock, too. He wasn't just a theater dork, like Angel. He was seriously one of the most well-rounded people Angel knew. Not only did all of the theater people love him, all the athletes did, too. To top it all off, he was smart. And gay, which Angel found out when they had to write a script together, and did a bit more than write. He laughed to himself, remembering their first date, last Valentine's Day.  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
"Shit, this food is SO good," Lenny mumbled between bites. He'd never eaten French food before. Leave it to Angel to find the most exotic place to eat, for the least amount of money.  
  
"I told you so," his date replied, smiling. The two of them had been seeing a lot of each other lately, and had been getting a bit more than friendly. They kissed, occasionally, but Lenny was ready for something more. He really cared about Angel, in a different way then he did anyone else. Angel really was an angel. He was special and unique. Lenny knew he'd be hard pressed to find another guy who shared his love for rock musicals and Madonna so passionately. Taking his date's hand, Lenny reached across the table, and began to speak.  
  
"I like you a lot," he said. "Oh great," he thought to himself, "Way to start a conversation!"  
  
Angel squeezed his hand back, "I like you a lot, too. This is so much fun. I really like spending time with you, Lenny."  
  
"And I you. Angel, do you want to make this. Official?" He could feel his hand begin to sweat with nervousness. It's funny; Angel had never made him nervous before this very moment.  
  
"What do you mean 'official?' Are you asking me to be your boyfriend?"  
  
Lenny looked down and blushed, "Yes."  
  
Firecrackers went off in his eyes as he got up from his seat, walked over to Lenny's side of the table, wrapped his skinny arms around his neck and hugged him tightly. "Absolutely."  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
He was so busy daydreaming that he almost walked by Lenny's apartment. It was glowing from the golden lantern light outside the building.  
  
"Lenny, my love," Angel whispered, "I only hope this brings us closer."  
  
He picked up his heavy suitcases and walked inside, into the elevator up to his boyfriend's apartment.  
  
He finally reached apartment B-12, and he knocked loudly on the door.  
  
"Angel?" Lenny asked, and opened the door simultaneously. "Jesus, baby. They kicked you out?"  
  
Although he had been happy only minutes ago, Angel suddenly found himself on the brink of tears. "Are your parents home?" he whimpered.  
  
"No. Baby, come here," he pulled his boyfriend firmly into his arms, and held his shaking body.  
  
"He told me 'No son of mine will be a faggot,' and he told me to go," Angel told him, between sobs.  
  
Lenny nodded in understanding, and held him even closer. "My parents will let you stay here, I'm sure of it. Did he hit you at all?"  
  
Angel began to shake once again, and meekly replied, "He pushed me into the wall. He didn't beat me this time though, I was lucky."  
  
"We'll tell them your father was hitting you. What about your mother? What did she do?"  
  
"She cried."  
  
"Does she know you're staying here?" he asked.  
  
"Yes, I told her in Spanish so Papi wouldn't know. She said she'd write me here. I heard her fighting with him when I left, but I couldn't hear what they were saying." His sobs had begun to subside, and was now fully enjoying the warm embrace of Lenny's strong arms.  
  
"It'll be okay, baby, I promise. It'll all work out. My parents will let you stay here, and we'll just keep living normally. I'm gonna help you through this and it'll all be fine, Angel Baby, I swear it," he spoke softly into Angel's ear.  
  
"I hope you're right. I love you Lenny."  
  
"I love you too."  
  
Lenny released Angel briefly to kiss him, and then they went back to their embrace. 


	6. Chapter 5: Con Todo Mi Amor

Chapter 5: Con todo mi amor  
  
Lourdes had just finished sealing the envelope.  
  
"B-12," she read aloud as she arrived at the bright building. She always loved this part of the city; right near Central Park. It was so calm and peaceful. The park looked a completely different world from the rest of the city: it was like this little isle of paradise. She sighed as she looked into the building.  
  
She had only met Lenny one or two times, and it had been very brief, but she liked what she saw. He was a handsome young man: tall, built, dark hair, dark eyes, and seemed reasonably nice, as well. It was the icing on the cake that he lived in a large apartment with wealthy parents, unlike her own son, who lived with parents who struggled to pay the rent every month.  
  
"Mi hijo," she sighed again, wiping back tears. She knew that Walter had done the wrong thing by kicking him out, but she didn't know where to go, or what to do. All she knew was that she was going to the Bronx for a while to live with her friend, Ceci. As much as she did love Walter, she could not love a man who would abandon his own child at the expense of his ego.  
  
The letter in her hand crumpled in her tense grip, as she greeted the doorman.  
  
"Please make sure this gets to Angel Schunard. He is staying with Lenny Costales, in B-12," she told him, trying as much as possible to hide her thick Peruvian accent.  
  
"Will do, ma'am. Have a nice night." The doorman dismissed her with a smile.  
  
She left the building hearing the words she wrote to her son playing like a broken record in her mind.  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
Querido Angel,  
  
I'm so sorry I had to do this to you. There are things you do not know about my past, and things you do not want to know. I must tell you that it was your father who forced you to leave, not me. I love you with all of my heart, and I thought I was dying when you walked out that door. I felt like you were dying too, my son.  
  
You remember Uncle Angel, who you were named after? He was gay, hijo, just like you, and he died when you were seven. We always told you he had cancer, but that is not the truth. He had AIDS, Angel. A very, very early case of AIDS. This was before we even knew what this disease was called. Some people called it "gay cancer," but I just knew it as the monster that killed my brother.  
  
I love my brother very much, and every time I look into your eyes, I see him. I named you after him in hopes that you would be as beautiful as he was, and you are, baby, you are. You're more than everything I've ever wanted in a son, and I love you with all of my heart.  
  
Your father is scared. I know he loves you, and you know that, too. He's difficult to live with sometimes, we both know that well. Dios mio, niño, we both know how hard he can be sometimes. He's afraid that you will die, just like my brother did. As you were leaving tonight, he told me he will not watch you die from being gay. He thought that by kicking you out of the house, he was making it all better, so he wouldn't have to watch his only son die. I would tell you he did this to you out of love, but I know how hard that is to believe. Even I have trouble believing it.  
  
I'll be staying with Ceci in the Bronx for a while. I have left your father. I love him, and you know I do, but I cannot live with a man who treats his son the way your Papi treats you. Believe me, though, hijo, he thinks about you all the time and he truly does care for you.  
  
I don't know when I'll see you again. I'm afraid that it may be entirely too long, but you need to know that I love you with every fiber of my being, and every time I look in the mirror, I see you, my son, my Angel. I hope you love me too, and I know in my heart you do.  
  
I hope that staying with this boy works out for you. You may love differently than your father and I, but I hope that you have happiness and luck with love. You deserve it, you are amazing. I love you so much, and I'm so sorry. Please, find it in your heart to forgive me.  
  
Con todo mi amor,  
  
Tu Mami.  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
She looked up at the sky that night, and prayed to Jesus that her son would be happy and healthy through all of his days. She wiped away her icicle tears and walked down to the subway station. 


	7. Chapter 6: Welcome Home

Chapter 6: Welcome Home  
  
The loud clank of the lock opening on the door made both Lenny and Angel jump.  
  
"Shit, they're home!" Lenny mumbled as he put his shirt back on, "Get dressed, quick."  
  
"Okay babe, no problem," Angel responded quietly. His boyfriend had been "cheering him up" and he really did feel better. Nothing like sex to cheer someone up.  
  
"Lenny, honey? We're home!" his mother yelled to him.  
  
Bursting out of his bedroom, fully dressed, he greeted his mother, "Hey mom. Uh, I've got a problem. Well, actually it's not me, it's," he paused, breathing a heavy sigh, "It's Angel. His father kicked him out and - "  
  
"Is he all right?" Lenny's father chimed in with concern.  
  
"Yeah, he's here now, though. He's got nowhere to -"  
  
"Say no more. He's staying with us, end of story," his mother stated firmly.  
  
Angel peered out of the bedroom and stood in the doorway. His clothes were still wet, and the heavy fabrics hung off his body. He remembered how Lenny told him to exaggerate the part about his father hitting him, and everything, so that his parents wouldn't need to know the real reason Papi threw him out.  
  
"Angel, honey, what happened?" Lenny's mother questioned.  
  
"Uh, um," he stumbled, "My dad.he.he hit me, and told me that. and then my mom just. and she cried and I -"Angel tried to form his thoughts into words, but ended up just breaking down into a fit of sobs again. He didn't even mean to cry, it just happened.  
  
Before Angel realized what was going on, he found himself being held by Mrs. Costales, consoling him. "You stay with us for now. It'll be okay."  
  
He stepped away from her, looking her straight in the eye, "Thank you so much. This really means a lot."  
  
"It's fine, really. Oh and - by the way, the doorman told us to give this to you. We thought it was a bit strange, that a letter for our son's best friend was delivered to our place, but now it all makes sense."  
  
"Um thanks," Angel replied, puzzled by the envelope. He looked at it and recognized the hand writing right away. It was the thin, loopy, script his mother wrote in. Running his fingers over his name on the outside of the envelope, he closed his eyes and felt a dam of tears about to burst. He was afraid to open the letter, and he didn't know why.  
  
After an awkward pause, Mr. Costales broke the silence, "Well, we'll leave you two alone now. It's up to you where you want to sleep, Angel. Lenny will make up a bed for you. Don't stay up too late; you both need to go to school tomorrow."  
  
The two boys quietly walked back to Lenny's room, shut the door, and kissed immediately.  
  
"Who's the letter from?"  
  
"My mother," Angel told him, "I can't read it. I don't know why, I just. I can't do it."  
  
"Read it when you're ready, Angel baby, no rush. She wouldn't have written, though, if she didn't love you," Lenny told him, holding tightly around Angel's waist behind the locked bedroom door.  
  
"I'll read it. You're right, it can't be that bad," Angel tried to convince himself.  
  
Lenny and Angel stood next to each other, reading the heartfelt letter from Angel's mother. When it was over, Angel found himself not crying, rather smiling.  
  
"She really does love me. You were right." Angel mumbled, trailing off into deep thought.  
  
"I can't believe that thing about your uncle. You really never knew?" Lenny asked, shocked.  
  
"No. You know Papi, he wouldn't dare tell his son something like that. He doesn't want a faggot for a son, remember?" he laughed bitterly. "It's okay, though," he continued, "I know now, and that's all that matters. Mami told me, and I know she loves me. I'm not sad anymore," he said with genuine confidence now.  
  
"That's good, babe, I'm happy for you. Let's get some sleep though. You can sleep with me. I'll tell my parents. um. that you feel asleep, and I didn't want to wake you. They probably won't even say anything."  
  
"Okay. Goodnight Lenny. I love you," Angel told him, kissing him lightly on the lips.  
  
"I love you too, Angel baby," Lenny replied, returning the kiss.  
  
They got into bed together, wrapped in each other's arms, drifting off into a deep, peaceful sleep. 


	8. Chapter 7: Caught in the Act

Chapter 7: Caught in the Act  
  
It was now April of 1993. Angel had been living with Lenny for two months. They had started to look at colleges together, and had decided to go to school in Vermont so they could get legally "married." Angel's drama and music teachers encouraged him to apply for a music scholarship in the fall of his senior year, so he could go to a decent school. They were aware of his living situation and his lack of support from his parents.  
  
"You know, my parents still don't suspect a thing," Lenny told Angel as they walked down the dingy hallways of City Public, hand intertwined with one another, "We should celebrate."  
  
"Baby, I don't think we need to celebrate, I mean -" Angel began.  
  
Laughing, Lenny leaned down and whispered into Angel's ear, "Does the fact that we're both seriously sex-deprived and my parents are going out tonight mean anything to you?"  
  
"Celebrate we will!" Angel exclaimed as he continued to walk hand in hand with Lenny to interpretive dance class.  
  
"Then it's a date," he stated firmly.  
  
"A date it is!" Angel replied, kissing Lenny briefly.  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
"Yes!" Lenny breathed a sigh of relief as he walked into his empty home, with Angel clinging to his arm. Pacing into the kitchen, he found a note from his parents, "Hi boys. We'll be out till around 8; we're with the Moore's. See you later," it read.  
  
Glancing at the clock, Angel realized it was only six. As he let go of Lenny's arm, he put his arms around his waist and looked into his eyes, "PLENTY of time," he smiled as he planted a passionate kiss on his boyfriend's lips.  
  
"You said it baby," Lenny said as he and Angel dashed into the bedroom. Giggling, they shut the door.  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
They had been so busy making up for lost time, that they didn't even hear Lenny's parents come home a full forty-five minutes early.  
  
Thinking he heard something, Angel asked, "What time is it?"  
  
"We still have a good forty minutes, babe, don't worry," Lenny mumbled as he pulled Angel back on top of him, and they continued to kiss.  
  
Just as they began to get caught up in the moment once again, the bedroom door creaked open.  
  
"Leonardo!" Mrs. Costales gasped at the sight of her son lying naked in his bed with another man.  
  
"Angel!" Mr. Costales exclaimed, with a similar look of shock on his face.  
  
"Shit," Lenny cursed to himself as he and Angel attempted to hide their nude bodies from the sight of his parents. Angel could feel his face turning a bright shade crimson from embarrassment. He knew he was no longer going to be welcomed in the Costales's home.  
  
"Angel, excuse us for a minute. We need to have a private talk with Leonardo," Mr. Costales stated with an angry tone. Putting his shirt on, Angel whizzed out of the bedroom, and patiently waited to hear his fate.  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
"Son, would you care to tell us what this is all about?" Mrs. Costales snapped.  
  
"Mom, I hate for you to find out this way," Lenny paused, nervously, "but I'm gay."  
  
"We figured that. It's not everyday that you see a straight man in bed with another man," his father mumbled sarcastically.  
  
"I can't believe this. You're not gay!" his mother exclaimed.  
  
"Yeah I am. It's not like it's a bad thing. I've been with Angel for over a year, since last Valentine's Day. We're in love. You like him; you think he's a great guy. I know you both do, so don't even pretend to disagree. I don't understand what the big deal is. I'm still the same person, I just have a boyfriend," Lenny spoke nonchalantly.  
  
"Well he can't live here. I will NOT have you sleeping -"  
  
"Dad, I get it. But he doesn't have anywhere else to go," Lenny preceded.  
  
"He can't stay here anymore. I feel sorry for him, I really do, but it's not our problem," Mr. Costales insisted.  
  
"It was fine before you knew he was gay," mumbled Lenny.  
  
"I don't want you having a live-in. whatever he is. right now, Lenny, you're only 17. You still need to learn things about life. You can't pick your life partner yet, this is ridiculous!" his mother shook her head, sighing in disbelief.  
  
"I know what I want. I don't need to learn anything about life. I have Angel. I love Angel, damnit; I'm in love with him. Why is this so hard for you?"  
  
"You need to get your act straightened out, son-"his father began  
  
"Ha, that's funny Dad," Lenny laughed bitterly.  
  
"No pun intended. You need to get away from here. away from Angel, for a while. You - you need to go to military school," Mr. Costales demanded.  
  
"Now, Pedro, I don't think we need to send him away," Mrs. Costales reasoned.  
  
"No, Maria, my mind is made up. Angel leaves tomorrow morning, you," he yelled, as he pointed at Lenny, "will be driven off to boot camp."  
  
"Dad! My god! I don't need to go to boot camp!" Lenny exclaimed in shock, "I don't need to get away from anything! I have everything I need right here. All I need is you, Mom, and Angel. I'm set for life!"  
  
"That's it. Our conversation is over. We'll tell Angel what's going on," his father answered sternly.  
  
"I'm sorry," his mother whispered to him.  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
"Angel?" Mr. Costales's booming voice startled him. As he approached the boy with caution, Angel got a bad feeling from his expression. He felt butterflies in his stomach.  
  
"Yes, sir?" Angel asked politely, swallowing nervously.  
  
"I really hate to do this to you, but my wife and I are asking you to leave. We can't have you living here under these. circumstances," Mr. Costales emphasized the word "wife."  
  
"With all due respect, sir," Angel stated, "I have nowhere to go. If I can't stay here, I'm going to be living on the streets."  
  
Sympathetically, Mr. Costales answered, "Angel, I'm sorry. There's a youth shelter a couple of blocks away. We can't have you staying here. Lenny is going to military school, and. I'm sorry, I really am. But we can't help you." He looked away from the boy's amber eyes, ashamed of what he had done, "You can leave tomorrow morning," he continued in a whisper.  
  
Angel looked away from him, as well, and walked straight to the bathroom to wipe away his tears. "Men don't cry," he told himself as he grabbed a tissue. 


	9. Chapter 8: Goodbye Love Part I

Chapter 8: Goodbye Love - Part 1  
  
Although it was against their will, Lenny's parents let Angel and Lenny spend their last night together. They agreed under one condition: that they sleep with their clothes on.  
  
Lying in Lenny's arms, Angel looked up at him. He loved everything about Lenny. He liked the way his muscular arms felt around his slim frame. He loved the curly, gelled black hair, and how it was long enough to see the curls, and run his hands through them. He liked the way Lenny was at least six inches taller than him, and that he had to stand on his toes to kiss him. He sighed, and smiled at him. "I love you," he told him, like he had so many times before.  
  
Lenny looked down into Angel's eyes, and agreed, "I love you, too. This isn't fair. I don't want to leave you."  
  
"I don't want to leave you either. What are we going to do?" Angel asked.  
  
"I don't know. The military school is in Ohio, or something, and you're gonna be here in New York. We'll never see each other," he paused, "Maybe." he trailed off, with a troubled tone in his voice.  
  
"What are you saying?" Angel asked abruptly, breaking away from Lenny's loving embrace, "What, baby, do you want to -"  
  
"Of course I don't want to!" Lenny exclaimed, scooping Angel back into his arms, "I love you more than anyone, you know that. But we're not gonna be able to see each other ever, and. I don't know, maybe it's for the better," he admitted.  
  
"I know you're right, but. I can't bear to lose you," Angel said quietly, in a voice that was barely above a whisper.  
  
"But we can't stay together if we're not able to see each other," Lenny argued.  
  
"I know, but."  
  
"I understand. Jesus, Angel, I'm nothing without you," he said as tears began to form in his eyes.  
  
"Don't cry, honey," Angel said, "We'll spend our last night together, and if we're truly meant to be together, our paths will cross again. Wow," he said with a smile, "THAT was cheesy."  
  
"It's okay. We're allowed to be sappy tonight. It's our last night together," Lenny agreed, and continued, "I love you so much. I'm in love with you, baby."  
  
"I'm in love with you, too. We'll just make the best of tonight okay?"  
  
Lenny slowly shut off the lights and got back into bed with Angel. Sleeping next to each other, with their bodies intertwined, they drifted off into a last night of peaceful sleep together.  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
The next morning, the sky was grey and overcast. As Angel was leaving Lenny's apartment, he dragged his suitcases to the front door, and looked back into the house, waiting for Lenny. His parents were out at work, so the two of them were home alone. Lenny was instructed specifically to make sure that Angel was out of the house by noon. Mr. Costales would be coming home during his lunch break, at precisely 12:30 to make sure that Lenny was alone.  
  
Lenny walked solemnly down the hallway to the front door. He looked briefly into Angel's eyes, and then quickly wrapped his arms around Angel's waist, burying his head in his shoulder.  
  
Angel responded by holding tightly around Lenny's neck, tears freely flowing down his face.  
  
"I love you. like I need to say it again," Lenny whispered to Angel as he wiped away the tears on his cheeks.  
  
"Yeah, right? Well, I love you, too. I've had a lot of fun with you, Lenny Costales, and even though it's no fair that we have to end this way, I wouldn't trade it for the world."  
  
"You're right," Lenny told him, taking his hand, "You're amazing, Angel Schunard."  
  
They shared a final kiss, filled with passion and sorrow.  
  
"Goodbye love," Angel whispered, as he hugged Lenny one last time, remembering the past year and a half of love they shared together.  
  
Angel picked up his suitcases and left the apartment. 


	10. Chapter 9: On the Streets Day One

Chapter 9: On the Streets: Day One  
  
"Now what?" Angel asked himself out loud, as he trudged down the dreary New York streets. Looking back at his now ex-boyfriend's apartment, a wave of memories of their relationship flashed through his mind. He loved Lenny so much, and it hurt to know that they weren't together anymore.  
  
"I guess I'll go to the shelter," Angel grumbled, not wanting to walk around the city with his heavy suitcases. His skinny arms could only hold so much. "Where's the address?" he wondered as he dug through the outer pocket of his bag.  
  
He found the paper with the address of the shelter, scrawled on in Lenny's chicken-scratch handwriting.  
  
"419 east 11th street," he read to himself, as he unfolded the piece of paper to find a whole page of Lenny's sloppy writing. He sighed, and read the letter.  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
My Angel Baby,  
  
I'm watching you sleep right now. Sorry, that sounded kinda creepy. Well, it's our last night together, and I'm crying while I'm writing this to you. This is hard, and it's probably gonna come out as a bunch of sappy shit, but I just need to tell you everything, as if you don't already know.  
  
I can't bear to lose you, baby, I love you too much, and it's not fair that my parents are doing this to us. We both knew they would react this way, though. I mean, come one, we were WAY too happy to stay the way we were. It was only a matter of time before someone/something tore our world apart.  
  
I know we can't be together after tonight, and it hurts me like you wouldn't believe. Actually, I'm kinda hoping you don't know what I'm feeling, because you don't deserve this kind of pain, but I know you hurt like I do, and that hurts me even more. We really will never see each other. The military school is far away. I think my dad said Ohio, or something. It sounds like I won't even be able to come home for a few months. I'm so sorry you have to go to that shelter. I wish like hell I could take you to military school with me, but obviously I can't. It's way too expensive, and angels don't belong in such a horrible place.  
  
I'll never forget you, though. Jesus, I feel like I'm just living in some bad romance novel. You taught me things I'd never learn otherwise. You even introduced me to food I never would have eaten. Who would have thought snail could actually taste good? But, seriously, you are the most selfless person in the world, and I know you'd do anything for me, and I'd do anything for you, too. I meant it when I told you you were amazing. It's like nothing bothers you, and you love everyone for exactly who they are. If I ever end up being half the person you are, I'll be a good man.  
  
I'll love you forever, and when I say that I really truly mean it. Before I met you, I didn't know I was gay. I mean, I had thought about it a lot, and I knew it was a definite possibility, but I was never actually ATTRACTED to another man before you. I liked girls, I guess kinda out of habit. The rest of the guys liked girls, so why shouldn't I? But then there was you. You, with your drums and everything. I remember when I first met you in our improv class. I was just drawn to you. And then we started dating and. alright, I'm rambling, but it was like a dream come true. You're perfect for me, and I only hope that I made you as happy as you made me.  
  
What you said tonight, about if we're meant to be together, then our paths will cross again, it made me sad. I know deep down, we probably won't see each other again any time soon. I love you, though. I really do, with everything I have. I'd give up the world for you if I could, and I hope to God that we're meant to be together. But if we're not, then I just want you to know what you've done for me. You've changed me in so many ways; I can't even begin to explain. You are the most wonderful person I've ever known. Never change.  
  
I love you with all of my heart,  
  
Lenny  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
By the time he was done reading the letter, Angel could feel the tears welling up in his eyes. Lenny was never that expressive to him. He wasn't the kind of person who said things like that. Knowing that Lenny was feeling the same pain he was hurt him like a thousands knives. He really did love Lenny, and he believed what he had said. They probably wouldn't meet again. And that hurt like hell.  
  
His tears began to freeze from the bitterly cold night air. He picked up his bags once again, and began to walk to the shelter, leaving his first love behind. 


	11. Chapter 10: Today For You

Chapter 10: Today For You  
  
Digging through the pockets of his worn-down jacket, Angel managed to scrape up just enough money for a subway ride and a phone call. He was not looking forward to staying at a shelter, but he did have an alternative: Mami.  
  
Angel's mother was staying with a close friend of hers in the Bronx, Ceci Casablanca. Angel knew Ceci very well, and his family had always been close with hers. Angel was good friends with Ceci's daughter, Carlotta.  
  
He dug vigorously through his pockets to find the letter his mother had written him a few months ago. She had left Ceci's number on the bottom of the paper. He finally found the paper, wrinkled and creased from being folded and unfolded so many times. Unfolding it one more time, his eyes dropped to the bottom of the paper, and found Ceci's number, written in thin, loopy handwriting.  
  
He shoved a quarter quickly into the pay phone and briskly dialed the number, waiting impatiently as the phone rang into his ear.  
  
"Hello," a young girl's voice answered quickly on the other line.  
  
"Is Lourdes Schunard there?" asked Angel hopefully.  
  
"Angel! Oh my God! It's Carlotta. How are you?" she screeched into the phone. Wincing from the loudness, he smiled and answered her.  
  
"Uh, I'm alright. How are you?"  
  
"Okay, I guess. Wow, I haven't talked to you in SO long. I miss you!" she exclaimed without pausing to take a breath.  
  
"I miss you too. I'll come and visit soon though. Mami said she was living in your house now, is she there?" the dead silence on the other end alarmed Angel. Carlotta was never this quiet. "Well?" he asked again.  
  
"Oh my God, you don't know," she said, more to herself than to him. Continuing, "Honey, um, last week, your Papi came here. He was drunk and," she paused uncharacteristically to take a breath, "he found her. He beat her real bad, and we think he might have raped her, but she's refusing to tell us anything."  
  
Angel's mouth hung open in shock.  
  
"I'm so sorry," Carlotta continued.  
  
"Is she okay?" Angel asked frantically.  
  
"Well, she isn't doing so great. She's in a lot of pain, and she's internally bleeding. The doctors stopped it a few days ago, but she was coughing yesterday, and I guess the bleeding started up again. Things don't look good, Ang."  
  
"Can I see her?" he questioned, in a voice barely above a whisper.  
  
"Yeah, of course. Take the subway down here. You remember where my house is, right?"  
  
"Yeah."  
  
"The hospital's about 2 blocks up, right next to Lola's Fried Chicken."  
  
"I think I remember now. I'll be there as soon as I can," he replied.  
  
"Okay. Hurry, baby, I don't know how much time she has."  
  
"Be there in a few," he told her, and hung up the phone.  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
With two suitcases and barely enough money to afford the subway ride, Angel was having difficulty. His bags weren't big, but together, they took up a lot of space and weighed a ton. The weight of the bags couldn't even compare to the giant weight on his chest. He had just lost Lenny, the love of his life, and now he was about to lose his mother. "I'm one lucky son- of-a-bitch," he mumbled to himself as the subway car jerked along. The ride to the Bronx wasn't terribly short, but it seemed like an eternity.  
  
Finally, when it seemed like the car could go no longer, Angel reached his destination. He dragged his suitcases off the train, and trudged up the stairs leading to the street. The blast of cold air nearly sent him flying back down. Walking up the street for only one block, he arrived at the hospital, right next to Lola's Chicken.  
  
Breathing heavily, and exhausted from carrying his bags, Angel entered the hospital and tripped over his baggage.  
  
He marched up to the desk in the magnificent front hall. Pulling his hat away from his eyes, he asked, "Excuse me?"  
  
"Can I help you?" the man at the desk answered in a bored tone of voice. He fiddled with the pencil behind his ear as he stared at Angel with an expressionless face.  
  
"I'm here to see Lourdes Schunard," he stated firmly, "Can you tell me where she's at?"  
  
"Hold on, I'll look it up," he replied, mumbling, and staring back at his glowing computer screen. "Room 18 on the fifth floor," he said after a long pause.  
  
"Thank you," replied Angel as he gathered his bags in his aching arms, and stepped into the elevator.  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
When Angel was a kid, he went to a hospital once with Mami so she could get some kind of blood test. He liked the hospital. He liked the idea of everything being clean, and he thought the stark, white walls were pretty. Now that he was here because Mami was sick, he hated the thought of being here. The white walls were blinding, and the clean smell made him nauseous and dizzy. Glancing at each of the shiny golden numbers on the door, he finally found room number 18. His heart was thumping with anxiety inside his chest, as he entered the room. What he saw made his head spin.  
  
"That's not Mami," he whispered, as he looked at the ghost lying on the cold cot. Even though the figure barely resembled his mother, he knew it was she. When he got up close enough, he still saw a frightening mirror image of himself. Her lips were drained of all color, and her face looked like she was covered in white makeup. The warm, caramel color of her skin had disappeared. Most haunting, though, were the cuts and bruises. He could see her upper arms, and vibrant blue-purple of the bruises looked even brighter against her skin. The large, scabbing cut next to her eye looked like it had been painted on with that stuff the kids use on Halloween.  
  
Angel touched her pale face, noticing the difference between their complexions. "I love you, Mami," he whispered in her ear as he stroked her soft, chestnut hair.  
  
The corners of her mouth twitched as Mami's eyes fluttered open. Although the rest of her body was pale and beaten, her eyes were still a vibrant, sparkling amber, and brighter than ever.  
  
"Angel," she said, as she lifted her bruised arm, and held his hand, "Did Ceci tell you I was here?"  
  
"Yes. Mami, what happened?" asked Angel, sounding like a little kid.  
  
"Your Papi wasn't happy that I left him, hijo," she told him, as he squeezed her hand tightly, listening to her rhythmic, Peruvian accent, "He got drunk and -"she paused, "It's not important what he did, but he is arrested now. We don't have to worry about him."  
  
"Mami, we do have to worry! And what happened matters. He hurt you." Angel trailed off, holding back tears.  
  
"Mi hijo," she whispered, "It's fine. Don't worry about me. It was supposed to be this way. At least I get to see you one more time. I love you, Angel."  
  
"Don't talk like that. We have plenty of time together. Now it'll just be you and me, and we'll be happy together."  
  
"I'm dying, Angel. I don't have much time, and I know that. They can't stop the bleeding. It's only a matter of time before I -"  
  
"No!" yelled Angel, "You can't leave me! I have nowhere to go!"  
  
"What about Lenny?" she asked in a calm, soothing voice.  
  
"His parents found out about us," he quieted down, "They sent him to military school and kicked me out. I have nowhere! I HAVE NOBODY!" he boomed, then paused, breathing a heavy sigh, "but you."  
  
"You will need to learn how to live without me. You're a strong person, hijo, I know you'll be fine."  
  
Angel looked at her, "How can you say that? I'm gonna die without you!"  
  
"You can't think that way," she said quietly, breathing heavily, "I'd rather you be happy without me than miserable with me and Papi."  
  
"Papi's gone!" he screamed at her, gripping tightly onto her fragile, bone- white hands, "It'll just be us. We'll be happy, we'll -"  
  
Angel stopped abruptly when his mother's hand convulsed in his grip. Her entire body began to twict as her sparkling eyes dulled and began to roll to the back of her head.  
  
"Mamita!" he exclaimed.  
  
Regaining composure for only a few precious minutes, she spoke softly, "I'm going soon, hijo, I can feel it. I need to tell you, though, live each moment as your last. Treasure the ones you love, and put them before yourself," her grip tightened around her son's hand, her body resuming it's shaking.  
  
Suddenly, her eyes brightened as she gazed into the identical eyes of her son, "Today for you," she whispered to him, "Tomorrow for me."  
  
Her body went limp as the heart monitor let out a piercing, everlasting "BEEP." 


	12. Chapter 11: Angry After Loss

Chapter 11: Angry After Loss  
  
"Mami!" Angel screamed at her lifeless body, "What do you mean 'Today for you?'" he asked, staring at her as the paramedics rushed into the room.  
  
Pushing Angel out of the way, a tall, thin doctor grabbed Mami's bruised arm, checking for her pulse. "None," he said as the rest of the doctors crowded around him to inspect her like a lab animal.  
  
Angel left the room, unnoticed.  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
"Ang!" he heard a girl yell from down the stark-white hall, "Hey Angel!"  
  
"Carlotta?" he asked as the girl ran up to him, embracing him in a warm and loving hug. Her bouncing chestnut curls hit him in the face as she hugged him.  
  
"How is she?"  
  
"She, uh," Angel stumbled, no knowing the right way to phrase his words, "I think she's gone."  
  
"Ay, Doña Lourdes," Carlotta mumbled, embracing him once again.  
  
"I don't know what I'm gonna do, Carli. I have nowhere to go."  
  
"I thought you were living with that boy," she stated. Carlotta knew that Angel was gay for a couple of years. As soon as he had realized he was, he told her, and she had been completely supportive. He was grateful to have her as a friend.  
  
"Lenny? His parents found out about us, so they kicked me out and sent him to military school," he admitted, feeling the pain of losing Lenny all over again.  
  
"Where are you gonna go, Ang?"  
  
"I don't know, I -" he was cut of by Ceci.  
  
"Angelito, how ya holding up?" she asked, snapping her gum. She was a solid six inches taller than him, with bleached blonde hair cascading down her shoulders, standing out against her skin-tight black dress.  
  
"Mami. she -"  
  
"Miss Casablanca," the rail-thin doctor who had taken Mami's pulse just moments ago, emerged her room, "I'm sorry, there was nothing we could do. There was too much blood, and it spread too quickly. I'm so sorry."  
  
"Thank you," she whispered as Carlotta approached her, hugging her tightly. "We're gonna have to made funeral arrangements, I -" she paused, looking down into the sad eyes of her best friend's son. "Angel, I'm sorry. This must be so difficult."  
  
Angel blinked back tears. "Yes," he mumbled weakly.  
  
"Mama," Carlotta chimed in, "Angel has nowhere to stay. Do you think, maybe, he can live in our home, just until he can find somewhere else?"  
  
"Carli, you know our situation," Ceci spoke as if Angel wasn't there, "We can't afford to have anyone else there. Lourdes paid for everything herself, that's the only reason. I mean -"  
  
"Forget it," he cut in, picking up his bags, "Lenny's father gave me the number of a homeless shelter I can go to," he told her, curtly.  
  
"I wish you could, honey, but -"  
  
"No, just forget it!" he snapped, picking up his heavy baggage in his sore, weak arms.  
  
"Can we have the number of the shelter? I mean, we'd want to keep in touch with you, especially to discuss the funeral, and her belongings and all," Ceci began.  
  
"I'm not going to her funeral, and she left everything to Walter," Angel said, appalled that he had referred to his father as Walter. "It makes sense," he thought to himself, "He disowned me, he's not my father anymore."  
  
"You don't need to be like this, Ang," Carlotta told him, placing her hand on his shoulder.  
  
Shaking it off, "No. Goodbye," he stated, and walked away, out of the hospital, leaving his past behind. 


	13. Chapter 12: The Absence Of God

Chapter 12: The Absence of God  
  
While walking out of the hospital, angry tears stinging his eyes, Angel looked down on the street, and found a crumpled bill next to a reeking garbage can. Curious, he went over to the can, ignoring the rancid scent, and picked up the bill. Twenty dollars.  
  
"Thank you," he spoke relief, "At least something is in my favor. I knew Mami was watching over me," he smiled, shoving the bill into his pocket and walking briskly down the street.  
  
The afternoon spring air swirled around him, making him shiver and button up his coat. While putting down his bags, his coat got caught on something. Looking down, he saw a small golden cross on his bag. Mami was very religious, and she wore a gold cross all the time. She would put the dull, gold crosses on her luggage as well, so she could distinguish which bags were hers. The crosses reminded him of when he and Mami would go to church every Sunday, and how she had told him to pray to Jesus every night. If he prayed to Jesus, she used to say, he would live a long, happy, healthy life. "Jesus fucked me over," he mumbled, as he continued walking.  
  
Right next to Lola's chicken was an empty, run down lot. Normally, Angel wouldn't have even noticed the burned out lot, but today, something caught his eye. In an effort to escape the chilling winds, he ducked into the vacancy between the two tall apartment buildings to go investigate the shiny, eye-catching glimmer. As he got closer, he realized it was a mini- shrine to someone. Fake flowers surrounded the shimmering cross, with a rosary in front of it. Someone must have died in the fire that made this empty lot. Suddenly, Angel got an eerie feeling, as he pulled his coat closer to his thin body.  
  
After entrancingly staring at the cross for a few minutes, Angel knelt down, and began to pray.  
  
"We need to have a little chat," he said, as he looked straight into the cross, seeing his own reflection in the shiny metal.  
  
"Jesus," he began, feeling awkward about talking to God without Mami being there to encourage him. He sighed, and continued.  
  
"I know I've committed a 'sin' by being gay, or whatever, but I can't, nor will I ever, apologize for it. At least I'm honest with myself. Since when is that a sin?  
  
"You took Lenny from me. How the hell could you do that? You're probably looking down at me now from your heavenly throne, thinking about how you can make me even more miserable. I love Lenny! I'm in love with him, and it is NOT fair that we had to be separated. Is this your idea of a cruel joke? Let me tell you something, oh heavenly father, I'm not laughing.  
  
"So you took Lenny from me. That sucks, and it makes me want to scream, and cry, and break up every other happy couple that ever lived so they could feel my pain for just one second. But I can deal with that. I can go on without Lenny, as hard as it may seem, but not without Mami," he paused, then smacked the charred earth beneath him.  
  
"FUCK YOU! You stole my fucking mother and boyfriend, and you took everything that ever meant anything to me away. First Lenny, now Mami. What's next?" he paused, laughing bitterly, "Who's left?"  
  
"What did I do to deserve this? Seriously, what did I do that was incredibly horrible that I deserved to be alone? I'm not a bad person!" he yelled, then quieted down. Mami's voice echoed in his head. "Today for you, tomorrow for me."  
  
"What the hell did she mean? Her fucking dying words to me, and I don't even know what she means. Once again, are you fucking with me? See? I'm not laughing. IT'S NOT FUNNY," he stopped abruptly, listening to his voice bounce off the brick walls that surrounded him.  
  
Angrily wiping the tears away from his eyes, he continued softly, "I love them both. Lenny and Mami. I know Mami's watching over me, and if she's not, don't tell me that. I need to keep thinking this way to survive.alone. Please, let Lenny know I love him. I know we won't be together again, but tell him I love him with all my heart. God, I can't apologize for who I am. If I've disappointed you, then it's just the way I am. I can't help it. Mami always told me you did things for a reason, and I guess I'll have to believe that even though taking everything from me is really unfair. Please, watch over me. I'm alone now, and I could use some protection."  
  
Angel stood up from the dirty ground, as he crossed himself. Brushing off his worn jeans that used to belong to Lenny, he looked down one more time at the shrine. "Pray for me," he whispered to the cross, walking away from the barren lot, with his anger swept up by the howling winds.  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
After he left the vacant lot, he walked one more block to the subway station to purchase a ticket. He was relieved that he had found the twenty- dollar bill so that he wouldn't have to walk the miles from the Bronx to the East Village.  
  
He approached the desk at the subway station where a man sat behind a wall of thick glass. "One please," Angel told him through the microphone.  
  
"Yeah," the guy replied, barely looking up from his science fiction novel to acknowledge Angel's presence. "Here," he mumbled, passing the ticket through the small slit in the glass.  
  
"Thank you. Have a nice night," Angel told him, giving him the twenty.  
  
"Yup," he muttered back, giving Angel his eighteen dollars in change.  
  
Angel marveled at the amount of money he had, then left the desk and proceeded down the stairs to wait for the train to take him to the East Village.  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
The chilling air at the bottom of the stairs hit him in the face like a pile of bricks. He hadn't expected it to be so cold. As he proceeded to wait for the train, he noticed a man sleeping on a bench. It was obvious the man was homeless, he smelled almost as bad as the rancid garbage can where he had found the twenty-dollar bill. Looking at the wad of cash in his hand, then back at the man, Angel got an idea, and a smile spread over his face. He pulled the ten out of the ball of money, and handed it to the man.  
  
"Today for you, tomorrow for me," he told him.  
  
The man, with a shocked, yet grateful, expression on his face smiled a toothless smile. "Thank you," he replied with a thick Polish accent. Angel shuddered for a minute, because the man's accent reminded him of Papi, but he smiled back at the man, nonetheless, and watched as the train whizzed by, stopping so that he could board. 


	14. Chapter 13: The Kindness of Strangers

Chapter 13: The Kindness of Strangers  
  
The ride to from the Bronx to the East Village was even longer than the ride from Central Park to the Bronx. Angel was growing increasingly hungry and impatient as each minute passed by. His arms ached from carrying his heavy bags, and his heart ached from the day. It wasn't everyday that someone lost their boyfriend and their mother, and became homeless. "I'm one lucky son of a bitch," he muttered to himself, and sat patiently as he waited for his stop to come. He looked down and noticed the pants he was wearing. They were Lenny's. He could easily yank them off with no effort, but he loved them anyway. Lenny had way too many clothes for his own good, so he gave some of them to Angel. That morning, he had given Angel his favorite J. Crew sweatshirt. Angel knew how much Lenny loved that thing, and he cried when Lenny had given it to him. He wished he was wearing it right now, because he was so cold he could use the extra layer. Every time he thought about Lenny he felt the enormous weight of sadness on his broken heart.  
  
He drifted off into a sea of memories of his relationship with Lenny, but was suddenly shaken back to reality when the train jerked rather violently. Angel looked up to see where the train was stopped, and he realized his stop was next. He gathered his bags once again, and got ready to leave the train and find some cheap restaurant to eat at.  
  
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The subway stop was right in the middle of the village, so it was relatively easy to get anywhere from that point. Angel exited the subway station, and proceeded to wander around the city until he found a decent place to eat. He didn't realize how cold the evenings in April could be. Now he really wished he was wearing Lenny's sweatshirt. Even though Angel liked to dress in tight, slightly feminine clothes, he still liked wearing Lenny's big, baggy jeans and sweatshirts once in a while. After walking aimlessly around the city for a while, he finally found Spring Gardens, his favorite restaurant. Angel loved organic foods, and he was extremely health conscious. Lenny used to tease him for being so calorie-crazed, but Angel was determined to stay thin and fit. Besides, Lenny grew to really love pasta with soy meatballs, which was Angel's favorite meal at Spring Gardens.  
  
The restaurant smelled like fresh-cut grass and vegetables, and the warmth hit Angel with surprise. He was so numb from the cold he had forgotten what heat felt like. A young waitress approached him. "Can I help you?" she asked. The people here were always friendly, although Angel had only come here a few times with Lenny.  
  
"Yes. I'd like pasta with soy meatballs," he told her politely. He was really thirsty, but he knew he probably wouldn't have enough money for a drink.  
  
"Alright, that'll be 6.50, is that all?"  
  
"How much a bottle of water?" he asked, hoping he could afford it.  
  
"$1.00" she replied.  
  
"I'll take one of those too."  
  
"Your total is $7.95," she told him.  
  
Relieved, he gave her the eight dollars he had left. "I was so worried I wouldn't be able to afford anything," he told her.  
  
"Well, you came to the right place. The food's nice and cheap here," she said, and smiled at him, "Enjoy," she said as she handed him a steaming pile of food.  
  
"Thank you," he replied, and took the bowl to a seat.  
  
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The steaming bowl of pasta topped with soy meatballs and a smooth pesto sauce looked so delicious. Angel was so excited to have real food; he hadn't eaten much all day. He devoured the pasta almost as quickly as he had received it. He knew this would be his last decent meal for a while, unless he could find some miraculous alternative to living in the shelter.  
  
"I'm not a shelter kid," he thought to himself, "It wasn't supposed to be this way."  
  
"What wasn't supposed to be this way. Hon, what are you talking about?" the waitress asked him. Blushing, Angel realized he had said that last part out loud.  
  
"Oh, um, nothing. I'm just. it's been a long day, that's all."  
  
"I hope it gets better, whatever's wrong. Have a good night," the waitress told him, smiling.  
  
"Thank you, you too," Angel told her, leaving the restaurant, back into a cold evening in the city. 


	15. Chapter 14: In the Club

Chapter 14: In the Club  
  
About a block after he left the restaurant, Angel realized something. "Have to piss like a racehorse," he spoke. The woman walking next to him gave him a dirty look for his blatant statement. Rolling his eyes, he stumbled along the sidewalk in search of a bathroom.  
  
The first place he found was a run-down club with a bright, glowing neon sign outside. "Club Tran," the blinking letters read. Angel had never been much of a club person. Lenny's friends used to have big parties almost every weekend, with lots of alcohol, drugs, and dancing. As much as Angel loved to dance, he and Lenny never went to the parties. They preferred to do interesting, exotic things by themselves, like scouring Soho to find an interesting boutique, or a cheap organic restaurant. Unbelievably, Angel had never even touched drugs or alcohol. Sighing, he approached the front entrance of the club.  
  
An obese man in a security uniform blocked the entrance. Angel could hear the pounding bass from outside.  
  
"Need to get in?" He asked, looking down, skeptically at the young boy.  
  
"Yeah," Angel replied, cracking his knuckles. It was a bad nervous habit. He was afraid they'd card him, find out he was only 17, and not let him in. he wasn't going to drink: all he needed to do was use the bathroom.  
  
"You drinkin'" the man asked fumbling through the pockets of his navy security jacket.  
  
"Uh, no," replied Angel, surprised he wasn't being carded. People always told him he could pass for 12, if he tried.  
  
Stamping Angel's hand with an illegible blue blob, the man opened the heavy steel doors. "Enjoy," he said shoving the stamp back into his pocket, and slamming the door behind Angel.  
  
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The music was insanely loud, the bass pounding, sending vibrations through Angel's body. He looked around and saw a sea of tall women, with long, flowing hair, short, glittery dresses, and high platform heels. Their dresses glowed under the strobe lights and disco balls. In awe, Angel wandered around the large, open space until he found the bar, and sat down. A tall woman sat next to him, sweeping her long, shiny lemonade hair away from her face.  
  
"Enrico, baby, get me a beer," She said, but the voice coming out of her slim, feminine form was that of a man: deep and husky.  
  
Doing a double-take, Angel gawked at the woman/man next to him.  
  
"Here you go, Jay," the bartender said, handing her a drink.  
  
"Thanks, doll. But remember, when I'm like this, you call me Jaya," she giggled, still in a deep tone.  
  
"Sure thing, babe," he replied, and continued cleaning the worn wooden counter.  
  
"Oh my god," Angel said out loud, "I'm in a drag club."  
  
"Right you are, honey," Jaya said to him, winking in his direction.  
  
"Um, uh. where's the bathroom?"  
  
"Down the hall over there, to the left," she told him, chugging her beer.  
  
"Uh okay," he replied quietly, leaving his stool at the bar. "At least they're all gay," he said, smiling, knowing he wasn't alone.  
  
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Breathing a sigh of relief, Angel walked out of the bathroom and nearly collided into someone.  
  
"Oh, I'm so sorry!" he exclaimed, apologetically, looking into the black eyes of another drag queen.  
  
"Dear, don't even worry about it," she replied in a high, feminine voice. "I've never seen you here before," the queen continued, "What's your name, sugar?"  
  
"I-I'm Angel."  
  
"Indeed you are. You can call me Queenie. I own this club, along with my fabulous partner in crime, Frederico," she said, extending her hand. Giving her a firm handshake Angel smiled. "My my, you're strong," she laughed, "How'd you find out about this place?"  
  
"I-uh," he stammered, "I'm homeless. See, my bags are over there," Angel told her, pointing to the two large suitcases with the glowing crosses on the handles. "I really needed to use a bathroom, I'm sorry."  
  
Queenie instantly scooped him up in a loving hug, "You poor thing," he said, releasing Angel. "When I came here from China, I was homeless too. I know how it is, sugar, you wanna talk about it at all?" Queenie asked him, taking his hand and guiding him into an empty room, with glowing blue walls and fluorescent green carpet.  
  
"There's not much to tell," Angel said, not wanting to recount the tragic events of the draining day.  
  
"Honey, everyone's got a story, and it sounds like you need someone to tell yours to. So come on, spill," Queenie said, trying to coax it out of him, as they both sat down on a fluffy blue coach. Queenie still held his hand tightly, looking into his amber eyes, waiting for him to pour it all out.  
  
"Alright, uh, I'll make a long story really really short. My boyfriend's parents caught us having sex last night, they kicked me out, and I went to see my mother, who had left my father two months ago when he kicked me out for being gay. She was in the hospital 'cause my father attacked her, or something, and she died this afternoon. So I lost the two most important people in the world in one day, and now I'm alone, and I have nobody."  
  
Angel didn't even realize he was crying until Queenie handed him a tissue, and embraced him, once again. "Listen, baby, I'm gonna do something for you," the drag queen told him, sincerely. Angel clung tightly to her blue sequin dress, and buried his head in her long black wig. She continued, "There's an extra dressing room down the hall. Nobody ever uses t, and there's a big couch in there, and everything. So you, my dear, are going to stay there. The streets are NOT kind to people like you and me, sugar."  
  
"You mean that?" Angel asked wiping away his tears and looking up into the sparkling, almond, Asian eyes of his new friend.  
  
"Absolutely, and I will not take no for an answer," he said, ruffling Angel's curly black hair. "But," he paused, "You will need to work."  
  
Angel knew there was a catch. "What do I have to do?"  
  
"Do you sing, dance, anything?" Queenie asked him.  
  
"Yeah, I sing and play the drums. And I dance, a little," Angel said hopefully.  
  
"Perfect!" Queenie squealed. She continued, "We have a performance schedule every day, and we're seriously lacking in talent. That's not to say that I don't love our performers to death, but let me tell you, honey, they NEED a little work. As it is, we only have about four different people doing anything, and the audience is getting sick and tired of hearing "If I could turn back time" every day. We need you."  
  
"So you're saying all I have to do is perform everyday, and I get to live here and I get food?" He asked excitedly.  
  
"Yeah honey, that's it. And, any money you make from tips is all yours," she said, smiling down at the young boy.  
  
"Oh my God!" Angel exclaimed, wrapping his arms tightly around Queenie's slim waist, "Queenie, you're the best! Thank you so much!"  
  
"Aw, honey, it's no problem, really," she reassured him, rubbing his shoulders, "I see a lot of myself in you, and when I first came here, I could've used some help you know. Just someone to get me back on my feet."  
  
"If you don't mind me asking, what happened when you came here?"  
  
"I don't mind at all," she said, sighing, and pursing her red, glossy lips, "but this might take a while."  
  
Angel sat back, and held Queenie's hand, if simply to comfort them both, than nothing else. Queenie squeezed his hand, and smiled down at him as she began to talk.  
  
"Obviously, my real name's not Queenie, and I am no woman. Although, I make one convincing drag queen, or so I've been told," she laughed, and continued, "My real name is Quen-Yong Chan, and I came to America from China when I was 15 years old."  
  
"Wow, that's young."  
  
"Yeah, but it really didn't seem like that at the time. My parents never seemed too thrilled with my brother and me. You know how most parents think their kids are the eighth wonder of the world? Yeah, I was far from one of those wonders, and so was my brother. He was six years older than me, and he vowed that s soon as he could, he would get both of us out of China and away from our parents. He worked three different jobs and dropped out of high school so he could get more money and get us out of China as soon as possible. I have never seen any boy work so hard for anything. He wanted to be in America so bad, he could taste it." Queenie's eyes were glazed over while she was speaking about her brother.  
  
"What's so bad about China?" asked Angel.  
  
"I can tell you've never been there, sugar. It's just... I don't really even know, because there's a lot of stuff I just don't remember. I remember never being happy, though, and that's a horrible thing. Seriously, since I've been here, I don't think there's ever been a time where I just sat down and was like 'Lord, am I miserable.' So, anyway, when I was still living in China, my brother used to tutor me in English. He had friends and teachers who had helped him learn it, and he told me that he wouldn't go to America without me, and he needed me to learn English before I could go. I barely even remember Chinese, because I had English drilled into my head since I can remember. Maybe that's why I have no accent,"  
  
"That's amazing. My mother came here from Peru, and she had the thickest accent I'd ever heard. If I didn't speak fluent Spanish, then I really wouldn't be able to understand her," Angel said, his heart aching from the memory of Mami.  
  
"Ooh!" Queenie squealed, squeezing Angel's hand even harder, "Frederico speaks Spanish too! He's from New Mexico, but his parents spoke it at home. You'd love him! And since you're gonna be spending a whole lot of time here, you better get acquainted with him. I'll go find him, honey, you wait here." Queenie said, hugging Angel as he got up.  
  
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Minutes later, a talk black man entered the room. He was very handsome, Angel had to admit, and slightly intimidating, due to his sheer size. He was HUGE. At least 6 foot 4, maybe taller. Queenie wasn't too short either, and he made her look tiny. Smiling a bright, dazzling smile down at Angel, he introduced himself. "Hey, I'm Fred," he said, his deep bass voice having a warm, friendly quality to it.  
  
"I'm Angel."  
  
"Well, it's nice to meet you. I see you've met my lady, Queenie," he said, hugging her tightly. "She's beautiful, isn't she?" he stated, grabbing her waist and tickling her.  
  
"Baby.," she giggled, blushing, as Fred whispered something in her ear.  
  
"Angel, how old are you?" Fred asked, in all seriousness, still holding tightly onto Queenie, "You're out of high school, aren't you?"  
  
"Uh yeah," Angel replied. He felt ashamed. He'd never lied like that before.  
  
"Good," Fred replied.  
  
"Timmy wouldn't let anyone under 18 into the club, Freddy. You know that!" Queenie exclaimed.  
  
"Just making sure, babe, you never know," Fred said, kissing her. "You know, Angel, when Queenie was dragging me back here, she couldn't stop talking about you. She said you reminded her of a 'mini-Queenie.' "  
  
Angel smiled, blushing. "Thank you," he replied.  
  
"Well, Angel babe, we need to get back to our business, but you just go straight down this hallway, all the way to the end, and the spare room is the last one on your left. You can make yourself at home dear. You've had a tough day, and I bet you could use some rest," Queenie said, smiling at him.  
  
"Thanks. Really, I mean it," Angel told her and Fred, sincerely.  
  
"Don't even think twice about it. Get some sleep, honey, we got a lot of shopping to do tomorrow!" she said, and hugged him one last time.  
  
Hauling his suitcases down the hall, Angel entered the cozy room, just grateful to have a place to sleep. He changed into Lenny's big basketball jersey and flannel pants, pulled the blanket on the couch over his body, and shut off the lights, ending the day. 


	16. Chapter 15: A Fabulous Queen

Chapter 15: A Fabulous Queen  
  
The room was still dark when Queenie quietly opened the door, with Fred's hand laced her own.  
  
"Angel, honey," she said softly to awaken the young boy, "Angel babe, it's time to get up."  
  
Groaning and rolling over, Angel sat up and opened his eyes. "Jesus," he said, "What time is it?"  
  
"It's 9 o'clock, babe. We're gonna go shopping for your outfits, remember?" she asked him.  
  
"What outfits?" he questioned, still in a sleepy daze. Suddenly, the events of the previous day flooded back to him. Lenny, Mami, bathrooms, drag queens, clubs. Now he remembered. He forced his eyes to open wide and examine the room around him. He looked up at Queenie and Fred, remembering why he was here and who they were. "Sorry," he continued, "I was kinda confused."  
  
"It's okay, sugar, you had a long day yesterday. We wanna leave in about a half hour, will you be ready?"  
  
"Yeah, there's a shower I can use, right?"  
  
"Absolutely. It's in the bathroom right over there," she directed him.  
  
"Thanks. Yeah, I'll be ready in about a half hour."  
  
"Perfect. Fred will cook you breakfast. He makes some killer French toast," she exclaimed, squeezing Fred's hand.  
  
"Thank you," Angel told them, thanking them for a lot more than just the breakfast.  
  
"Just come out when you're ready," Fred told him, leading Queenie out of the room.  
  
"That breakfast was amazing!" Angel exclaimed, still quite full from his four helpings of French toast. Normally, he was extremely weight- conscious and he wouldn't eat more than one helping, if that. But today, he felt the need to eat himself into oblivion, which he did, enjoyably.  
  
"I told you Freddy was amazing," Queenie said, beaming at her boyfriend. Gasping, she said, "Here we are!"  
  
The glowing pink sign on the front of the store was difficult to miss. "DANCING QUEEN" it beamed, proudly.  
  
"Angel, doll, you are gonna love this place! It's where I get all my clothes. Of course, I get them altered so they're a bit more original, but you'll definitely find something great here. You are going to make one fabulous queen, honey."  
  
Gawking at her, "Excuse me? Whoa, nobody told me I had to dress in drag!" Angel exclaimed, backing away from Queenie and Fred.  
  
Putting her arm around his shoulders, Queenie leaned in closely to him, "Sweetie, what did you think you were gonna wear? You're working at a drag club, remember?"  
  
"But. but I've never worn drag before, I won't be very pretty. You can't make me do it," he pleaded, backing even further away from the couple.  
  
"I don't take no for answer," Queenie brushed it off, grabbed his arm, and dragged him into the store.  
  
The sparkling dresses and glowing wigs were blinding. Angel had never seen so many flashy clothes before in his life. Queenie's eyes lit up when they walked in, as she ran over to a rack, looking at a floor- length blue gown.  
  
"Oh my god! Freddy this is beautiful! It would look fabulous with my black and blue wig! Oh honey. buy it for me?" she pleaded.  
  
"Absolutely, baby. It will look lovely on you. But, we're here for Angel, let's help him look."  
  
"Oh yes. Okay, Ang, come with me. We're gonna find Tiff and she'll help you out," Queenie said, yanking Angel's arm, and pulling towards the back of the store.  
  
] "Tiff? Darling, where are you?" Queenie yelled into the black abyss behind the counter.  
  
Another beautiful drag queen appeared from the darkness. She was considerably older than Queenie and Fred, but she was gorgeous. "Queenie Chan? Bless my soul, sugar, you look fabulous!" Tiff exclaimed, scampering out from behind the counter, giving Queenie a hug.  
  
"I try, I try," she blushed, then pulled Angel from behind her. "This, my dear, is Angel Schunard."  
  
"Well, aren't you adorable!" Tiff squealed and hugged Angel as well. "I'm Tiff, it's nice to meet you. What brings you here, sugar?"  
  
"I, uh-"  
  
"Tiff, honey, Angel's a bit shy. He's new to whole scene, if you get what I mean."  
  
"Oh, well then, doll. I'll give you the quick introduction. I am famous around this fabulous city for my dresses. They are ALL my original designs, and queens from around the country have called my shop, looking for replicas of my work. Let me tell you something, I only sell them in New York City."  
  
"New York City. It's the center of the universe, you know," Queenie chimed in.  
  
"Right you are," Tiff replied, then continued, "Anything you could want here, I have it. I'll even custom-make something for you, if I really like ya," she said, winking in his direction.  
  
"Honestly," Angel said, quietly, "this whole thing is a little intimidating. I mean, usually I wear more fitted clothes, but I've never dressed in drag."  
  
"Well, baby, if you're really not comfortable," Tiff began, but was interrupted by Queenie.  
  
"Ang, I already gave you this job. It's all part of the job description," she said, seriously. This was the closest to mad Queenie ever got.  
  
"I guess I'll try it," he mumbled, letting himself be embraced by Queenie, who was thrilled with his decision.  
  
"You will NOT regret it," she exclaimed, as he followed her and Tiff to a big rack of sparkly dresses.  
  
Tiff led Angel to one of the many racks of glittering gowns. Staring into Angel's eyes, Tiff began to examine his face and body.  
  
"Hmm," she thought out loud, "You would look lovely in red or pink. Of course," she paused, smiling in Queenie's direction, "No queen should be without the signature black dress."  
  
"Listen," Angel cut in. "I feel kind of uncomfortable with this. I just don't think I'm made to wear dresses and wigs and everything, and -"  
  
"Okay," interrupted Queenie, "I'll make a deal with you, Ang. You try on the dresses, wigs, makeup, the whole nine yards, and if you absolutely hate it, I won't make you wear it." Disappointed, her black, almond eyes cast down to the floor.  
  
Feeling guilty, Angel responded, "I'll give it an honest try, I really will."  
  
"Okay, this pink dresses is just SCREAMING your name," Tiff gushed, holding Angel around his waist, trying to get a feel for his size. "My my, you're so skinny!" she observed, then selected the floor-length pink gown off the rack and handed it to Angel.  
  
"This is tiny!" He yelped, gawking at the pink satin mass he was holding.  
  
"Well, you're tiny. And the dress needs to tight, you have to show off that figure. Nobody wants to be swimming in pink satin, darling," Tiff insisted. Grabbing 5 other brightly colored dresses, including a dangerously short red sequined number, from the same rack, and three others from a different rack, she thrust them into Angel's arms. Yanking him into the dressing room, she quickly closed the curtain.  
  
"You have to show us everything, no matter what," Queenie demanded from outside the dressing room.  
  
"Ang, come on, it can't be that bad" Queenie coaxed, trying to get Angel to come out of the tiny fitting room.  
  
"I look so bloated! Queenie, I look horrible," he whined, examining his reflection in the mirror.  
  
Angel had always been a rather feminine man, but he never actually considered dressing entirely in women's clothing. He liked the fitted shirts and slightly baggy, flared jeans that he usually wore. He looked so out of place in the sea of flowing pink fabric. Running his hand over his stomach, he smoothed out the wrinkles and gazed at himself in the mirror. Raising an eyebrow, he noted how nicely his creamy caramel complexion looked against the shimmering pink. Still examining himself, Angel was convinced he saw a roll of fat around his waist. Sighing, he crossed his arms over his stomach with the non-existent fat, opened the curtain, and stepped out.  
  
Glancing nervously around, Angel approached Fred, Queenie and Tiff cautiously.  
  
"Oh my god!" Queenie yelped and scooped up the young drag queen in her arms. "You are gorgeous!" she squealed and grabbed Angel's hand.  
  
"I must say, Ang, I'm impressed," Fred complimented him as Angel held Queenie's hand and blushed. Fred continued, "You look good." Fred rarely dealt out compliments like that. He was shy and soft spoken, and Angel greatly appreciated his kind words.  
  
"See honey? Look at that figure! I told you you had to show it off," Tiff gloated, examining her newest project.  
  
"I do like the pink," Angel mumbled, letting go of Queenie's hand and examining himself, again, in the mirror. "I could get used to this."  
  
"Good good. You're gonna have to get used to it, honey, you'll be performing everyday like this," Queenie reminded him.  
  
"Alright, I'll do it," Angel agreed, "But I'm gonna need a lot more clothes, wigs, and makeup." He giggled at the thought of getting all dressed up and performing. 


	17. Chapter 16: It Wasn't Supposed To Be Thi...

A/N: Hey guys. Thanks for all the fabulous reviews! I love you all! I'm working, slowly but surely, on this thing, so I apologize for the lack of updates. Finals and all is VERY stressful, so I trust you'll all be nice, loyal readers and bear with me! I also realized I had a few "plotholes" in my story, and I really need to fix that. I'm just not sure how to edit the chapters. yes, I'm completely inept when it comes to this. I can WRITE the story, I just can't post it. I'm in awe of my own stupidity haha ( so if any of you are willing to help me out with this, feel free to email. That would be great. And, once again, enjoy this chapter. The last one I wrote was def. not my best, so I tried to make up for it here. Love it? Hate it? Whatever, review anyways. Now, on with the story.  
  
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Chapter 16: It wasn't supposed to be this way.  
  
"Ladies and gentlemen, may I present our newest and youngest performer, the fabulous Miz Angel Schunard!" Fred's deep voice boomed into the microphone.  
  
Backstage, Angel smoothed out the wrinkles in his dangerously-short, red- sequined dress, fluffed his wig one last time, and sauntered onto stage, the bright lights blinding his eyes.  
  
The cheers and hollers from the crowd brought a smile onto the young drag queen's red sparkling lips. The music began to start up, and his eyes closed, the tops and bottoms of his false eyelashes lacing within one another. The bass of the music engulfed his body, as he began to movie his hips and twirl around. Touching himself, he began, "Humidity's rising, barometer's getting low."  
  
This was Angel's first full week of performance. He'd been living with Queenie and Fred at the club for three weeks now, tonight being his three-week anniversary. He had wandered into the club, cold and scared, three weeks ago just needing a bathroom. Before he knew it, a cheerful Chinese-immigrant transvestite and her fabulous boyfriend had adopted him into their family, treating his as if he were their own offspring. Since that day, he'd been practicing It's Raining Men in various sparkling dresses and high heels. Queenie had taught him the basics of performing, and dressing in drag, and, finally, they both knew that Angel was ready to be a full-time performer.  
  
Tonight was a Saturday night, the busiest night of the club. As the song progressed, and Angel's wild dance continued, he gazed around the club, in awe of the sheer size of the audience. Gay men from all walks of life watched the young boy dance, provocatively, on stage, cheering him on all the way.  
  
"Hallelujah, it's raining men. Amen!" Angel belted, continuing to engross himself in the song even more. He was able to do amazing riffs on the high notes, due to his naturally high tenor voice. A break in the song occurred, and Angel's dancing exploded. He put his leg up on a pole, and began to caress it, much to the pleasure of the rowdy audience. Twirling in circles, the vocals began again, and Angel finished the song, belting at the top of his lungs and clinging to pole.  
  
"AMEN!" he wailed as the song ended.  
  
As soon as the music stopped, the crowd erupted into deafening cheers. The hoots and hollers of all the people at the club brought a large smile onto Angel's face, making his eyes light up.  
  
"Ladies and gentlemen, the fabulous Angel Schunard! Let's give her another round of applause. This is her first Saturday night performance, show her some love!"  
  
"YEAH BABY!" another drag queen yelled up to the lit stage. Angel beamed as his face turned a bright crimson. Putting his arm around the young boy's shoulders, Fred hugged him, whispering, "Good job, baby," as he began to introduce the next performer and Angel retreated backstage.  
  
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Angel walked back to his dressing room with a dazzling smile on his face. Nearly knocking him over, Queenie hugged him, squeezing his tiny body so hard that he thought he'd break.  
  
"You were amazing, Angel baby! They loved you!" she squealed as she continued to hug him.  
  
"That was SO much fun. Thank you for giving me this opportunity," Angel told her sincerely, air-kissing her cheek.  
  
"Oh, it's no problem doll, really. I'm so proud of you. I know it's only been three weeks, but you're changed so much since you first came here. You're so open now. I thought it was gonna take me FOREVER to break down that little wall of sadness you had built up inside your young heart. But you're a sweetie, I always knew you were, and I'm glad you're here," Queenie told him, as tears welled up in both their eyes.  
  
"Oh my god, that is the sweetest thing anyone's ever said to me. I don't even know how to thank you!"  
  
"Well." she began, "You could just go around and mingle with the clubbers. You were a big hit, they'll all want to meet you."  
  
"So I'm like a celebrity, huh?" he asked, beaming with pride.  
  
"Well, sort of. As close to a celebrity as you're gonna get while you're here, at least. But, dear, I do need to warn you: be careful. There's some creepy people who come here, and I don't want anything bad happening to you. This used to be a strip club, and we've still got a lot of the old club-goers that show up on the weekends. Most of them are sweet, but you need to watch out for the sleazy ones. Enjoy yourself, though, babe."  
  
"Will do. Thanks again Queenie, I love you," Angel told her, hugging her and kissing her cheek again.  
  
"Love you too, babe," Queenie replied, returning the affection.  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
Angel walked out from behind the stage door, greeted by the faces of a pleased audience. He knew that there would be people waiting to talk to him, but he didn't expect all of this.  
  
"Woo baby! You're a hot one!" an older drag queen whistled at him.  
  
"Like that pole action, Ang. TAKE IT OFF!" another yelled.  
  
Appalled by their suggestive comments, Angel continued to walk to the bar to get some soda, or something, from Enrico.  
  
The emptiness of the bar was beckoning to him, as an escape from the sleazy audience, crowing around him speaking obnoxious comments to the young performer.  
  
"Coke," Angel told Enrico, as he sat on the stool, crossing one thin leg over another.  
  
"Right away, darling. You were amazing tonight, Ang, the best I've seen ya. Congratulations." At least Enrico wasn't hitting on him.  
  
Accepting the drink from him, Angel replied, with a bewildered expression on his face, "Thanks."  
  
There was only one other person at the bar. A man, young looking, dressed in a tight white tank top and a pair of flared jeans that sparkled from the light of the disco balls.  
  
"Oh, hey, you just performed, didn't you?" Mystery Man asked him.  
  
"Uh yeah. I'm Angel, nice to you meet you," Angel said, politely, pleased that the man was carrying on a decent conversation, rather than a weak and failed attempt to get in his pants.  
  
"Name's Gary. I don't come here too often, but I've never seen you before. You're new, I assume."  
  
"Yeah, this is actually my first Saturday performance. It's nuts here on the weekends, I didn't know how bad it is."  
  
"I usually only come here on the weekends, so I wouldn't know any other way, but the crowd seems particularly rowdy tonight," Gary admitted, stirring the straw around the ice in his liquor.  
  
"I hope they aren't always this bad," Angel said, watching the smooth, stirring motions of Gary's straw.  
  
"Naw, they're usually alright. Were they giving you a hard time tonight?" He asked, looking genuinely concerned in the drag queen's well- being.  
  
"Just a little. They were just saying some things that. well, you know. I didn't really expect them to be so-"  
  
"Rude," he cut in, "I know exactly what you're talking about."  
  
"Thanks. It's nice to know I'm not alone," Angel said, staring deep into the eyes of the friendly stranger.  
  
"You know what? It's kinda hot in here. You wanna get out and go somewhere? You know, just you and me?" He asked.  
  
"Uh, sure," Angel replied, thinking to himself, "He's trying to pick me up!" and blushing.  
  
"Cool," Gary said, as he stood up and took Angel's hand.  
  
He didn't realize how strong Gary was until his slender hand was being gripped tightly by his companion's. Gary was one of the few men he'd met that hadn't been significantly taller than he. Winking at Angel, Gary began to lead him out of the stuffy, dimly-lit club.  
  
Feeling a sinking sensation in his stomach, Angel looked into Gary's kind, gray eyes: The kind eyes shut as Gary wrapped his arms around Angel and began to kiss him. Staring at the blank eyes of the stranger, he placed his arms around the stranger's neck, out of force of habit. He couldn't feel that this was the way each and every night would be at this club: Looking at the blank and faceless men who he would soon be sharing intimacies with. Just as every anonymous man would do, Gary found Angel's hand, carrying the young boy away from the familiarity of the pounding techno beats.  
  
"It wasn't supposed to be this way," Angel whispered, quiet enough so that noone, not even the anonymous companion, would hear his cries. 


	18. Chapter 17: Time Flies, Love Dies

Chapter 17: Time Flies, Love Dies  
  
"That was fun, Angel. You're good," the drag queen said to him, winking in his direction. Pulling crisp bills out of her wallet, she thrust the generous sum into his small hands. "Nice work. We'll do this again."  
  
"Thanks," Angel mumbled, attempting to be polite. Rushing out of the run-down East Village apartment, he began his walk back to the club, as he had so many nights before. He hated this walk more than anything. There were others, just like himself, returning from a busy night with bills shoved in their pockets or crumpled in their hands. These wee hours of the morning were when the junkies re-surfaced, looking for more smack to fulfill their addictions. Angel knew he wasn't one of these people. He wasn't some crack head, nymphomaniac prostitute, he just needed money. He barely made tips at the club, and the only time he did would be when he did a bit of a strip-tease during his performance. He needed to make extra money to buy new clothes, and possibly find his own place. Queenie and Fred didn't mind having him there, but he knew it was a burden for him to live in their house.  
  
This was always the worst time of day, though. Queenie would look at him, disapprovingly. She'd n ever say anything, but he knew that she was upset about him. She treated him like a little brother, even a son sometimes, and to see somebody who she cared so deeply about selling his body broke her heart. He saw it in her eyes. It destroyed her, broke up her up into a thousand pieces. Angel hated to hurt her that way.  
  
He walked around the back of the graffiti-ridden brick building and opened the steel door in the back. The mirror beckoned to him as he checked his reflection. As usual, he looked like hell after a night of submissive intimacy. His clothes were wrinkled from lying on the floor all night, his wig out of place with random strands of hair sticking out every which way, and his normally-perfect makeup smudged and faded, revealing large black circles under his tired eyes. His feet ached from walking so far in the heels he was wearing, and his entire body ached from night after night of prostituting.  
  
Sighing, he proceeded down the halls to his dressing room, hoping to get in just before Queenie saw him. As he opened the door to his room, he found the lights on, and Queenie sitting on Angel's "bed", the ocean-blue fuzzy couch.  
  
"Hi," he greeted, embarrassed for her to see him this way.  
  
"Hi baby," she greeted, her voice sounding winded and tired, and nowhere near as cheerful as usual. "Angel, honey -"  
  
"No," he cut her off, "I don't want to hear it. I know what I'm doing is wrong, or whatever, but I need the money. I need more clothes and stuff, and I can't expect you to pay for everything." He was doing his best not to cry. She looked old for the first time since he'd met her.  
  
"I just worry about you, Ang. There's been so much going on, and Freddie and I don't even get to see you anymore. Everything's just been so crazy, and. I don't know, babe, I miss you," she said, sitting slightly hunched over on the vibrant blue couch. Her red, Asian-patterned kimono dress came well above her knees, revealing black fishnet stockings and shiny, patent-leather platform heels. Her makeup made her almond shaped eyes look even more slanted, her red lips sparkling under the dingy lighting.  
  
"Queenie, I'm so so sorry. I know what a bitch it is for you guys to have me here, and I'm just trying to get some extra cash so I'll be out of your way as soon as possible."  
  
"Don't you say that," she scolded, but smiled her brilliant smile and held his hand, "We love having you here. If anything, all you've done is help us, I mean, with Freddie... well, never mind that." She cut off her own sentence and stared down at the ground.  
  
"With Freddie what? Queenie, what's wrong?" He asked in all seriousness, staring compassionately into her eyes.  
  
"Hon, I don't think now is quite the time to tell you," she trailed off, her eyes darting everywhere except on to Angel.  
  
"No, tell me. Something is wrong. You've always been a bad liar," he said, attempting to ease it out of her.  
  
"Okay." she sighed and paused, "Don't say anything to Freddie yet. He didn't even want to tell me but. Baby, Freddie has HIV. He got tested a week ago, and I'm still waiting for the results of my test." Queenie looked so unbelievably calm, while Angel stood next to her, squeezing her hand in total shock.  
  
"How?" he choked out.  
  
"I don't know. There's still a possibility that I don't have it, because we've been safe, but accidents happen, you know? He's had a lot of other partners before me. He was just feeling a little funny, and he has a history of iron deficiency, so we thought he should get tested. His iron is fine. His T-Cells aren't." She held Angel's hand, consoling him, when Angel knew he should be the one comforting her.  
  
"Oh god," he whispered, as tears freely flowed down his face, ruining his makeup even further. "Can he take anything?"  
  
"There's AZT, but the best thing we can give him is no medicine, baby, it's support. We need to stand by him, be his life support, you know?" she said, smiling a sad grin at him.  
  
"How can you be so calm? He's gonna die!" Angel screamed at her, fearing the loss of his only real father figure.  
  
"It's the only way to be. We're all gonna die eventually, baby," Queenie said, trying to maintain her optimism.  
  
"Just - just stop it! You might die too, then who will I have? Where will I go?" he yelled in her face, then began sobbing.  
  
"Honey, I'm not going anywhere yet, and neither is Freddie. Just enjoy what we have now. We'll worry later," she consoled, holding the distraught, young boy to her chest, stroking his wig and hugging him tightly. Angel couldn't speak between his shaking sobs.  
  
After what seemed like hours, Angel finally calmed down enough to speak rationally. "I'm scared to lose both of you. I don't have anybody else, and I need you guys. Both of you."  
  
"I know, I know. You don't need to worry now, though. We'll just enjoy the present, and see what happens in the future," she reassured him, standing up and brushing off her dress. "Well, we should get something to eat, and start cleaning the club. It's a Saturday, you know, so we've got lots to do."  
  
Wiping his makeup-ridden tears off his face, Angel hugged Queenie one more time. "I love you."  
  
"Love you too, Ang," she smiled and kissed him on the forehead.  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
As usual, the Saturday crowd was whistling and cheering as the various performers did their acts. Angel was the last performer of the night, and then the DJ would be spinning some techno music. Usually, Angel would rile up the crowd with his show-stopping rendition of It's Raining Men, but tonight, he wanted to sing a new song. He was in a sad and depressive mood, after finding out about Freddie that morning. He wasn't quite up to singing his song and doing his usual seductive dance. Tonight would be dedicated to Freddie and Queenie and the love he felt for them. People by Barbara Streisand seemed fitting tonight. Not to mention the fact that Angel was well-aware that many of the club-goers had a fixation with Barbara. She was an icon in the male gay community.  
  
"People who need people, are the luckiest people, in the world," he sang sweetly as the music faded out. Rather than getting loud cheers and hoots from the crowd, he received heart-felt applause, as if the entire audience knew of Freddie's HIV, and they all loved him as deeply as Angel did. He took a bow, the long fabric of his black and white satin gown crinkling as he did so. Tonight was no night for flashy sequin and glitter skirts with skimpy belly tops. It was a somber night, which called for an elegant, floor-length black satin gown, with a flowing white insert in the back. His long, blonde wig looked brilliantly vibrant against the soft, dark material. Angel's makeup was understated as well: not so bright and gaudy tonight. His lips were a shiny, pale pink, his eyes rimmed with thin, black lines highlighted with shimmer silver-white eye shadow. Even his shoes were modest: not the 4 ½ inch "porn star" shoes he usually wore. He had selected skimpy, strappy sandals with a much lower heel. Before he had gone out to perform, Queenie told him how radiant he looked. At times, he would feel awkward and out of place in drag, but not tonight. He walked on and performed feeling beautiful and graceful, as a train of satin following eagerly behind him.  
  
After he had performed, Angel walked briskly out the backstage curtain, dying for something to drink from the bar. His throat was burning with thirst, especially after his beautiful rendition of People. As per usual, men swarmed around the young performer, still decked out in the fabulous black gown.  
  
"That was beautiful, Ang. I've never heard a Barbara song covered like that. You did the woman justice," a young man said to Angel, placing his hand delicately on the drag queen's shoulder.  
  
"Thank you," Angel managed to choke out from his parched throat, still weaving his way through the masses to get to the bar.  
  
"Coke comin' right up, baby," Enrico told him, mastering his usual order of a coke with no ice and a lemon wedge. After the performance segment of the night, the bar usually cleared out, leaving only a few stragglers left.  
  
Sighing and crossing his thin legs, Angel looked to his left and noticed three queens, club regulars, talking and laughing over a round of margaritas. Angel was never tempted to drink, but the frigid liquid of the margarita made him want to rip it out of Jackie's hand and down it himself. Resisting the urge, he turned his head to the right, seeing only one lonely man sitting two seats away from him. The man was good looking, a real hottie, by Angel's standards. He was wearing a fitted, ribbed white tank top to combat the early June heat. The pronounced muscles of his arms stood out even more against the thin, white straps of the shirt. His baggy deep-blue jeans covered the tops of the tan, Timberland work boots. The curls of his closely-cut hair wrapped around each other in a black, gelled mass. It was obvious the man was alone, with that forlorn expression he had in his eyes as he absently stirred whatever he was drinking.  
  
Feeling a wave of sympathy come over him, Angel scooted two seats over with the large mug of coke. The man looked oddly familiar, as Angel noticed when he saw him up close.  
  
Clearing his throat, he began, "Hi. You know, you look really familiar. My name's Angel," he smiled and held out his hand for a shake.  
  
"You look familiar t -," he stopped abruptly, the kind brown eyes bugging out of his head, "Angel?"  
  
The deep voice caught Angel off-guard when he finally recognized the mystery man. "Lenny?!"  
  
Angel's mouth hung open. He was paralyzed with shock for the second time that day. Of course it was Lenny. The tan muscles, black hair, and deep brown eyes should have given it away. It had only been two months since they'd last seen each other. One would think that such a beautiful face would have lingered longer in his mind, and he would have recognized the former lover right away.  
  
"Oh my god, I can't believe you're here! I thought you'd be away for, well." Angel trailed off, not quite knowing what to say, or how to say it.  
  
"Yeah, I thought I'd be gone year-round too. The school gets out June first every year, so I was only there for under two months. It's hell, though. I was glad to get out," he explained, as the stirring of his drink quickened.  
  
"Well, I'm, uh, glad you're here. I. I really missed you, Lenny," he admitted, watching Lenny stir the drink intensely.  
  
"I didn't expect you to be here," Lenny said, rapidly changing the subject to rid his eyes of the hurt he was feeling.  
  
"That day. yeah, I went to go see Mami, and I guess Papi attacked her, or something, and he hurt her real bad and she." Angel trailed off, trying with all his might to keep the tears inside. The damn threatened to burst every time he thought about Mami.  
  
"Ang, I'm sorry. That's awful," Lenny said, sincerely, lightly taking hold of Angel's hand as he did so many times before.  
  
"It's okay. But I came here to find the shelter, and then I really needed a bathroom. Like, I was about to burst!" he giggled, "So I wandered into this club, bumped into the owner, Queenie, told her my story about you and Mami, and she insisted I live here. She wouldn't take no for an answer. So, as payment, I perform."  
  
"You were great. You look beautiful," Lenny admitted, blushing and abruptly stopping the stirring of his drink.  
  
"Thank you," Angel smiled, and blushed along with him. Changing the subject, "Oh, you have to meet Queenie. I've told her all about you!" he gushed and grabbed Lenny's hand, pulling him up off the stool, and dragging him backstage.  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
"Queenie?" Angel asked the empty rooms backstage. "Babe, I have to introduce you to someone!"  
  
"Ang? Come here honey!" Queenie called from her dressing room.  
  
Scampering in with his hand entwined with Lenny's, Angel greeted Queenie with a big smile. "This is the fabulous Lenny Costales I've told you so much about."  
  
"Oh my god!" she squealed and lept up off her glowing orange chair to greet him. "I'm Queenie. I don't know if Angel told you, but I own this club with my wonderful partner in crime, Frederico," she recited the introduction and pointed to Fred, who was sitting quietly on a highlighter- yellow bean bag chair.  
  
"Um, nice to meet you," Lenny said, in a state of culture-shock. Seeing Angel in drag was one thing. He'd seen that a few times before, mostly for dares or humor, but still. Being surrounded by drag queens was entirely different.  
  
"You two run along now," Queenie insisted after a minute of silence, as she proceeded to shoo Angel and Lenny out of her room. "You have a lot of catching up to do, and I will NOT interfere."  
  
"But -," Angel began.  
  
Queenie, waving her hand in front of Angel's face, "No 'buts', honey. OUT!" She demanded, closing her eyes and dramatically pointing outside to the hallway.  
  
"Nice to meet you," Lenny said, as Angel yanked his arm and dragged him outside to the streets.  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
The alleys of the East Village were surprisingly warm on the late- spring, June evening. Unsure of how to act towards Lenny, Angel awkwardly walked next to him, afraid to touch any part of his body.  
  
"It's nice here. Completely different from the Park," Lenny said, as the two strolled along.  
  
"Yeah, I like it. And it's -. shit, never mind," Angel said, afraid to finish the sentence.  
  
Sighing, Lenny glanced down at Angel's hand, looking at the glittering bracelet he was wearing. It matched so well with the black and white gown. Boldly, he grabbed the slender hand, then looked into the loving amber-hazel eyes. "I've really missed you, Ang. It's hell there. They all call each other 'faggot' and 'cock-sucker' and I can't stand it."  
  
"Oh, baby." Angel spoke softly, unsure of how to react. His heart was thawing by the touch of Lenny's hand. "How long are you here for?"  
  
"Till August 21st, I think. Then, we have hell-week, then it's back to regular training and classes."  
  
"Sounds awful. So you're here for a while then?" Angel questioned, awkwardly.  
  
"Yeah," he trailed off.  
  
"So maybe we can, you know -," Angel began.  
  
"I don't think so. I loved you, Ang, but. I'm not in love with you anymore," Lenny stated, still holding Angel's small hand, looking down at the crumbling concrete.  
  
"But we don't have to do anything. it can just be as friends, babe," Angel tried to persuade him.  
  
"Don't call me 'babe'," Lenny mumbled, "and I think it's better off this way. Look at you, Ang. You've changed. A lot."  
  
"C'mon, you always knew I'd do this someday. Remember when I wore that leather skirt? With the chains? You loved me in that! This is my calling!" he giggled, searching for Lenny to share the joke with him.  
  
Managing a sad smile, Lenny responded, "This isn't funny. There's something about you that's different. The second I held your hand I felt it. I could see it in your eyes." His voice was getting increasingly louder.  
  
"What do you mean?" he asked, puzzled.  
  
"It's like," he sighed, "It's like all the love's died inside you, or something. Like sex and love mean nothing to you."  
  
"Listen, just because I have to make a living doesn't mean I -,"  
  
"What?" he cut in, asking in a loud, enraged voice, "What do you mean 'make a living'? Angel, are you a -?" He stopped, unable to finish the thought.  
  
Angel just looked to the concrete, seeking solace in its crumbling surface.  
  
"You're too good for that," he snapped.  
  
"It's not like you think, but a lot's changed in these past two months, you're right. And it's not like love doesn't mean anything anymore. When I'm with those guys, it's just for the money, I don't even think about what's going on!" Angel yelled as well. Lenny had never heard him yell this way before; it startled him.  
  
"You're numb," Lenny mumbled back.  
  
"And every fucking time I'm with anyone, all I can think of is how much I miss you. and I how much I wish it was you was with, instead of some sex-starved stranger!" Angel exclaimed, feeling the damn about to burst, angry tears flowing freely.  
  
"You know what, Ang? I missed you too. but I can't keep thinking like that anymore. What we had was amazing, and I wouldn't trade any of it for the world. I almost wish I hadn't seen you now, so our memories would have been that much sweeter. But maybe it was supposed to be this way, because I can't keep sitting in my shitty little hole-in-the-wall bedroom at fucking boot camp waiting for you and me to happen again. I can't keep waiting for you to save me from the ignorant homophobes. We're over, and that's the way it is. That's the way it'll always be."  
  
"I don't want us to end this way," Angel said quietly.  
  
"Time flies without you, Ang. And love dies," he said bitterly, "Goodbye, my Angel."  
  
And, with that, he left. Angel watched the receding form of his former lover shrink as he walked slowly down the street. He watched until Lenny was nothing more than a vanishing white dot against the city landscape, until he had disappeared completely. This time, he would not cry.  
  
"Goodbye love," he whispered, just as he had that April day when he had left Lenny for the first time. The howling winds in the alleys elicited no reply.  
  
Glancing at the had that was held just moments ago, he spun slowly around on his heels and stumbled back to the club.  
  
This time, he wouldn't cry, because Lenny was right. Love does die. No matter what had happened, or would happen, Angel and Lenny were over. The love between them had died with each passing day. This way, the memories were more sweet.  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
The club was virtually empty as Angel walked in. There were a few people cleaning up the floor, Timmy was locking up the doors, and Enrico was closing the bar. He'd never been around when they were closing up the club for the night. It had a completely different vibe than it did when people were there. It didn't seem so sleazy.  
  
Queenie and Fred were nowhere to be found. Eager to tell Queenie about the encounter with Lenny, he briskly walked backstage to the dressing rooms.  
  
Sure enough, Queenie was in her room, still wearing her beautiful kimono dress, sitting on Fred's lap and stroking his hair. Fred's eyes looked tired and empty as he clutched Queenie around the waist.  
  
"Hey," Angel chirped as he walked into the room.  
  
"Hi," they chorused, Queenie kissing Fred and standing up.  
  
"Someone sounds cheerful. OH, how's everything with Lenny? Are you two a -," Queenie asked, winking at him and smiling a mischievous grin.  
  
"No, not even close," Angel said, as the smile from Queenie's face faded instantly.  
  
"What happened?" Fred asked in a deep, tired voice.  
  
"We're over, I guess that's it. You know, I thought I'd die without him. And every time I was with some random stranger, all I'd think of was Lenny. When I was, ya know, 'doing the deed' with them, I'd just pretend it was Lenny, or something, and then the sex didn't seem so meaningless. But then I actually saw him, and now I know we're done. Maybe that's why I was doing all that stuff. I was just missing Lenny so bad. But I'm ready to move on now, you know? I have our memories, and that means the world to me."  
  
"Ang, that's beautiful," she said quietly, in response to his speech, sitting back down on Fred's lap and stroking his hair again.  
  
"I'm not even sad. I'm ready to start over. Find someone new!" Angel exclaimed, glowing with pride.  
  
"That's good, Ang. So that means no more -," Fred began.  
  
"No," Angel said firmly. "Never again."  
  
"Good!" Queenie applauded, relieved. "And, darling, I told Freddie you knew about his. yeah."  
  
"It's okay. I was planning on telling you soon anyway, Ang. I'm getting the AZT from the doctor tomorrow," Fred said quietly. "We're gonna beat this." He had a look of determination, as if he truly would be the one to stomp out the deadly AIDS virus; like he would be the one to outlast them all.  
  
"We are, baby," Queenie encouraged, "And I got my results back today during lunch break, Ang. I'm negative."  
  
"That's wonderful!" Angel cried, hugging them both.  
  
The three of them embraced, breathing in the love that existed within the tight circle.  
  
"It's late. We've all had a long day, so let's get to sleep." Fred said, interrupting the long hug.  
  
"Okay," Angel responded, releasing himself from Queenie and Fred. "I love you guys."  
  
"We love you, too," Fred said, smiling at both Queenie and Angel.  
  
Angel left Queenie and Fred in the dressing room and walked down the hall to his own bedroom. The events of the day flashed in his mind as he changed into a pair of boxers and an old, baggy t-shirt. Shutting his eyes, he smiled as sleep started to come over him. He was ready to begin a new chapter.  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
AND SO AM I! ( Hope you enjoyed this one, guys. I wrote it all at once.. inspiration, I guess. Anyway, as always READ AND REVIEW! Feel free to email me with suggestions as well.. im always open to change ( 


	19. Chapter 18: New Year, New Chapter

Chapter 17: New Year, New Chapter  
  
As usual, Angel was patiently waiting backstage to perform. Today was different, though. Today was June 22nd, 1993. it was Angel's 18th birthday. Of course, Queenie and Fred thought he was older than 18. Angel had to lie about his age to get into the club in the first place. "They probably think I'm 19," he thought, knowing full well that he could pass for 15 if he really wanted to. People always thought he was younger than he really was.  
  
Today he was dressed especially nice. He was wearing the gorgeous pink satin dress that Queenie had bought him the first time they went to Dancing Queen. He paired the short, knee-length dress with white platform sandals that laced up to just below his knees. He was wearing the same blonde wig he had worn the night he'd seen Lenny, only now it was paired with a glittering pink headband. Angel felt beautiful, and he was excited to perform. It was still around noon, so he was going to perform his toned- down day routine, leave to get lunch, then return to seat guests for a while, then, finally, perform his more raunchy night routine, with a birthday celebration to follow.  
  
"Here she is, Ladies and gentlemen, the fabulous Miz Angel Schunard!" Fred recited the introduction as he did day in and day out. When Angel walked on stage, prepared to take the mic out of Fred's hand, eh was greeted by a large white banner, sparkling with the words "Happy Birthday Angel." Feeling tears welling up in his eyes, he gazed out at the faces of the audience, mostly business people on their lunch breaks, and the waiters, dressed in classy black and white drag get ups. The other performers, led by Queenie, filed out onto the stage, carrying balloons and presents.  
  
"We all wanted to surprise you, babe," Fred continued speaking to a shocked, flattered, and now 18-year-old Angel. "Almost three months ago, this beautiful kid walked in here, just looking for a bathroom. Let me tell y'all, he was the most scared-looking thing I'd ever seen. Now, here we are, with one of the most fabulous performers in the East Village!" Fred exclaimed, eliciting applause from the cheerful audience. "Ang, we love you. Happy Birthday, beautiful." He kissed Angel on the cheek.  
  
"And you get the day off, sweetie, so go and enjoy yourself," Queenie added in, hugging and kissing him as well.  
  
Smiling proudly, tears glistening in his eyes, he quietly stepped off the stage, leaving the club with cheers and a chorus of "happy birthday" fading into the background.  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
The East Village was surprisingly quite on the Wednesday afternoon. Angel welcomed the quiet, though. He was used to the loud, pounding music of the club. After having just left, the cheers still rang inside his skull as he strolled down Avenue B looking for something interesting to do.  
  
He was in a real shopping, and was looking for a funky little boutique or something, where he could find some neat clothes. Dancing Queen was always an option, but drag shopping was something he preferred to do with Queenie. She was a dangerous shopper, but definitely the most fun.  
  
As he continued his aimless troll, he noticed a new, small shop he'd never encountered before. Granted he usually didn't get too much time to bum around the neighborhood, he still had never seen this quaint little boutique.  
  
"Model Boy," he read out loud, staring up at the recently painted, yet still crumbling sign.  
  
Looking in the window, he noticed the chic display. The clothes looked like the stuff he liked to wear when he wasn't in full-drag. They were tighter shirts with slightly-flared jeans. Definitely a gay man's clothing paradise, Angel thought. Plagued by curiosity, Angel entered the store. He did have hours of time to kill, after all.  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
The boutique was tiny, like a little hole in the wall. It was quite obvious that the store had just opened; there were boxes everywhere, but racks of clothing were set up amongst them.  
  
"Oooh! This is CUTE!" Angel squealed, picking up a tight black t- shirt with a red "X" in the middle. He plucked a size small off the rack, and decided to pair it with an equally fashionable pair of jeans; dark blue with a glittering waistband and trim around the leg openings. "Where's the dressing room?" he wondered out loud, as he paced aimlessly around the store, in his full-drag get up. hearing a thump in the corner, Angel jumped, startled, and turned as a man walked out form behind a shelf.  
  
"Oh, sorry," he blushed, as clear ocean-blue eyes widened at the sight of the radiant drag queen, "I didn't hear anybody come in. is there anything I can help you with?"  
  
Amber-hazel eyes bugged out of Angel's head as he marveled at the man. This boy was a true hottie. He looked like a model plucked straight out of an Abercrombie and Fitch catalog. His plaid short-sleeve button- down shirt hung open, revealing a fitted gray t-shirt that flaunted pronounced stomach muscles. His bulging biceps popped out form the cropped sleeves. Large calf muscles stood out against cargo khaki shorts. The naturally blonde-highlighted hair was styled with gel, spiked up in spindly needles around his head.  
  
"Yeah, I uh. um. is there a. a. dressing room?" Angel stumbled over his words, in awe of the man's model-like appearance. Fitting that the store was named Model Boy.  
  
"Oh, well. um, you see, I just opened this up a week ago, and I haven't really gotten a fitting room up yet."  
  
"Oh." Angel trailed off, disappointed that he wouldn't be the proud owner of this fashionable ensemble.  
  
"But, I haven't really had time to set up a return policy, either," he confessed, "So here's what I'm gonna do. You take that outfit, go home, try it on, and if you like it, come back and pay. If not, then come back anyway to exchange it. Completely free of charge,"  
  
"Oh my gosh! That's so sweet of you! Thank you, darling!" Angel exclaimed, ecstatic. "But, I've gotta warn you, you can't be that trusting with everyone: You're in New York City, after all."  
  
"Hmm, I never thought of that."  
  
"I take it you're not from around here?"  
  
"Yeah. Yuppie New England scum here," he said, raising his beefy hand, "I couldn't wait to get out."  
  
"Ah, I see. Well then, you're gonna need a little help. I've been living in the city my whole life, granted I'm only 19. my birthday's today, actually. So let me be your guide. I'm Angel Schunard," he said, extending his hand.  
  
"William Dumott the 4th, call me Will. Happy birthday, by the way," he said, winking at the drag queen and shaking his hand. As was expected, Will's handshake was hard and strong. He wasn't too much taller than Angel, but that was due to Angel's gigantic wedge-heeled shoes.  
  
"Thank you. I love the clothes here, by the way. Do you design them?" Angel asked, unable to keep his eyes off Will.  
  
"No, I wish I was that talented! My ex-boyfriend -."  
  
"BOYFRIEND?! You're -," Angel asked, shocked.  
  
Will interrupted, "Surprised, aren't you. I bet you've never met a yuppie New England fag before. That would be me," he laughed, "the one and only."  
  
"I just can't believe it. I mean, the clothes are. not exactly your average straight male's top choice but. wow, I don't know. It's not good to assume things now, is it," Angel said, embarrassed.  
  
Placing his hand gently on the small of Angel's back, Will reassured him, "Hey, it's fine. I assumed you were gay."  
  
"How many straight drag queens have you met?" Angel asked, skeptically. Will, staring at him blankly, said nothing. "Exactly."  
  
"Point taken. But did you really think I'd just give you clothes if I wasn't trying to get a date?" Will asked him, revealing a mischievous smirk.  
  
"Wait, what?" Angel asked, caught off-guard.  
  
"A date. You and me. You're beautiful, and I'd like to get to know you some."  
  
"I-I can't," Angel replied, sadly.  
  
"Aw, come on. You told me I could use some help getting around the city. So help me out," he persisted.  
  
"No no no, honey, you don't understand. I'd LOVE to go on a date with you. I mean. look at you!" he exclaimed, giving Will a quick once- over. "But I can't. I mean, I perform at the club, so I'm busy every night. Have you ever been to Club Tran a few blocks down?"  
  
"No, I haven't really had time to walk around the neighborhood I just got my place 2 weeks ago, and i've been so busy."  
  
"It's a drag club. I perform there every night, and some afternoons as well. But you're lucky," he said, lacing his hand in Will's, "I had my only day off today, and I stumbled in here."  
  
Will smiled sincerely, staring into Angel's eyes deeply, and squeezed his hand back.  
  
"I'll tell you what. I'll be performing around 9. Why don't you stop by, and when I'm done, we can head out and get some food, or something. I'll take you to my favorite restaurant. My treat."  
  
"Sounds good, but I can't let you treat on your birthday." Will insisted, still holding his hand.  
  
Whispering almost inaudibly, Angel suddenly embraced Will, wrapping his skinny arms lovingly around him, saying "Today for you." Puzzled yet happy, Will responded and hugged Angel as well.  
  
After a while, they broke away from each other, still gazing longingly into each other's eyes.  
  
"Uh, I've still got a couple of hours before I've got to go back to the club. Would you like some help around here?" Angel asked, sincerely.  
  
"Yeah, I'd love that, actually. If you can, unpack some clothes and fold the boxes up and put them up there on the shelf, in that closet," he said, pointing to the closet where he had emerged from, just moments ago.  
  
"Okay, let's get to work!" Angel squealed, delighted to be helping out this new friend.  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
Angel's arms ached from moving so many boxes, and unfolding and refolding so many clothes. He thought it would be a nice, relaxing couple of hours that he could spend with Will, but, obviously he was wrong. He and Will had shared some nice conversation, however. Angel had told William all about his past, his parents, Lenny, and Queenie. Actually, the majority of the afternoon had been Angel talking and Will listening, intently.  
  
Will enjoyed Angel's company. He'd never met a drag queen before, and he was in awe. Angel was beautiful. He was damn skinny, so he looked fabulous in the tight pink sating dress he was wearing. He thought it was impossible for a man to look that good in women's clothing, but Angel had surpassed all of his expectations. Not to mention, of course, that Angel was the sweetest, most kind-hearted human being he'd ever met. He'd had a tough life and, despite everything, Angel was still so caring. Will was amazed at his every move.  
  
Will walked over to the closet, empty box in hand. Struggling, Angel was attempting to get the box on the shelf, which was obviously too high for him. He'd taken his shoes off a while ago, claiming it was much easier to do the dirty work without the heels. Grinning, Will put down the box quietly, and snuck up behind Angel, grabbing him around the waist and tickling him.  
  
"EEK!" Angel yelped, laughing loudly, "Will!" He tried to bat Will's hands away, but it was no use.  
  
He wrestled Angel, who was laughing uncontrollably, to the floor, hovering on top of him. Abruptly, Will stopped tickling him, as Angel placed his delicate hands on Will's shoulders and, with surprising force, pulled him down on top of him, pressing their lips together.  
  
William never believed in a fireworks kiss, like the kind of thing in the movies. He never thought that one could truly feel the spark of love at the first kiss. Angel changed all of that. Angel changed a lot of things.  
  
Still in mid-kiss with Will, Angel shut his eyes and saw pink sparkles. "This is it," he though, "This is what love feels like."  
  
Finally, breaking away from the kiss, still in a powerful embrace, the men looked at each other, both smiling brilliantly.  
  
"Wow," Angel mumbled, as Will proceeded to get up off the floor, offering his hand to help the drag queen up.  
  
"Yeah, agreed," Will said, smiling at Angel, who was considerably shorter than him, now that his shoes were off.  
  
Looking at Will's watch, Angel cursed and began to lace up his shoes. "Shit, I really need to go," he said, fumbling to put the gigantic platform sandals on. "Got a pen and paper?" asked Angel, frantically.  
  
"Uh, yeah. What for?" Will questioned.  
  
"I need to give you the address of the club, because I'll go nuts if I don't see you again," he said, all in one breath, staring lovingly at the man.  
  
"If you tell me, I'll remember. I tend to not forget things that are important."  
  
"Well, in that case." he giggled, taking hold of Will's hand once his shoes were ties. "It's right on the corner of 11th street and Avenue C. You know your way around here yet?"  
  
Laughing, Will replied, "Not at all."  
  
"Okay. We're on 14th street and Avenue B now. Go that way," Angel pointed over his shoulder, "until you get to Avenue C. Then, you just got a few blocks that way," he pointed in a different direction, "till you get to 11th street. There's gonna be a huge, long line of people and a big, gold, blinking sign that says 'Club Tran.' Just tell the security guard you're with Angel Schunard, and he'll let you right in."  
  
"Okay. Not as complicated as I thought. What time do you want me to get there?"  
  
"Around 8:30, if it's alright. I usually go on around 9, but sometimes they switch up the schedules. As soon as I'm done, I'll run out and we can go eat, or something," Angel explained. Kissing Will once again, lightly on his lips, "I'll see you later, Honey."  
  
Will watched as the drag queen sauntered out the door, looked back at him with a bright smile, then proceeded down the street to return to the club. Touching his lips, he felt the glitter and lipgloss from Angel's sweet kisses still lingering. Shutting his eyes, he smelled the fresh scent of Angel's perfume in the air, recalling the touch of his amazingly soft skin.  
  
Smiling and humming a tune to himself, he got back to work. Dazed and happy, he began to count down the minutes until he would see Angel again.  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
FINALLY! Gosh, I haven't updated in SOO long. Love it? Hate it? Review please! 


	20. Chapter 19: What Love Feels Like

Chapter 19: What Love Feels Like  
  
"He is SO cute, oh my God!" Angel gushed as he sat on Queenie's lap, explaining the events of the day with Will. "He's hot, gay, single, AND he owns a boutique with the cutest clothes in the world. Look what I got there!" he squealed and took out the fashionable ensemble he received.  
  
"Oh my god, that is cute! Those jeans, Ang, wow. they're fabulous!" Queenie yelped, admiring the outfit. "I wish I could fit into that. If I was only a couple pounds less." she trailed off, then continued, "Okay, I need to meet this boy, is he gonna come here?"  
  
"Yes! He's coming tonight. Oh my god, I'm so excited. He kissed me today, and I swear I felt love. It was amazing. I've never felt anything like this before, not even with Lenny," he said, sighing.  
  
"Aw, Angel baby, I'm so happy for you. I hope this one's good for you. You deserve it. Now, you go get ready, and sing your little heart out tonight, okay hon?" she said, hugging the boy on her lap.  
  
"Yeah I will. I really like this one, I hope it works this time," he said, getting up from Queenie's lap.  
  
He walked down the hall to his dressing room to get ready for his birthday performance. "Will's my birthday present," he said, happily to his reflection, while he was touching up his makeup and switching his wig. Humming "Happy Birthday" to himself, he spent extra time selecting an outfit, and perfecting his makeup. Tonight would be a special night.  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
The line of drag queens and their boyfriends snaked its way around the run-down graffiti-ridden walls of the club, all the way down the corroding sidewalks. It was only 8:00. Will had been to enough clubs in his day to know that it was always a good idea to arrive early. Feeling uncomfortable amongst the transvestites, Will shifted his weight awkwardly from side to side, attempting to engross himself in the disintegrating concrete beneath his Birkenstock sandals. He didn't feel like getting too dressed up tonight, so he had traded the khaki shorts for a pair of khaki pants that were enormous on his built frame.  
  
Sighing, he nervously cracked his knuckles thinking about what he would say to Angel, and how thrilled he was to be seeing him again. After not having the best luck in love, Will had moved to the city as an attempt to escape it all, more than anything. He never expected to find love in New York, and two weeks after he moved in, he did. He couldn't put his fingers on it, but there was something about the vivacious drag queen that seemed to pump love back into his heart.  
  
Will was so busy daydreaming about Angel that he hardly realized that there was no longer a sea of sparkles in front of him from the clothes of the transvestites. Rather, an obese security guard yelling, "Next," to into his face.  
  
"Uh, hi. I'm with Angel Schunard," Will mumbled, indimidated by the man's sheer size.  
  
"Will, right?" he asked, nonchalantly.  
  
"Uh yeah. Did he tell you I was coming?"  
  
"She most certainly did! Go on in, enjoy," he said, stuffing his face with a cream-filled doughnut, opening the door and sending Will into the black abyss of the nightclub.  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
"Oh my god," Will gasped as he look on stage. "And I thought he looked good in that pink dress."  
  
Will had seen his fair share of beautiful men throughout his life, especially the Nantucket lifeguards, and the sight of Angel on that stage far surpassed any beauty he'd ever seen. The sensual dance he was performing only added to his sex appeal.  
  
Only Angel could pull that outfit off. Most men were hideous in mini- skirts and cropped tops, but Angel was radiant. It was difficult for Will to see exactly what he was wearing, but he was fixated on the amount of skin showing.  
  
Angel continued to belt the chorus to It's Raining Men, one of Will's favorite guilty-pleasure songs. It was hard to believe that such a big voice came from such a small person. He wrapped his leg seductively around a pole, caressing it gently, the long black waves of his wig beating against his back and shoulders as he sang.  
  
Will was positively mesmerized, watching the way the boy moved so beautifully. It was almost as if Angel was inhuman, some god-like androgynous figure, lighting up the stage.  
  
Wailing at the top of his lungs, Angel finished the songs. "It's raining men, AMEN!" The rowdy audience erupted into a flood of applause and cheers for the young performer.  
  
"Ladies and gentlemen, today is this lovely lady's birthday, let's show her some looooove," the tall black man bellowed into the microphone. Will was impressed with the man; he was quite attractive. The crowd hollered even louder at the man's command. "Happy birthday, beautiful," he said to Angel, hugging him and kissing the top of his head.  
  
Angel took a bow, then jetted back behind the curtains. Impatiently, Will waited for him to come out of the door.  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
Just moments after he went backstage to check his makeup, Angel emerged from the door to the stage, still in his sexy, full-drag get up. Glancing around and nervously chewing his nail, he searched for Will, eager to see him again.  
  
Finally, catching the drag queen's eye, Will waved as Angel hopped over to him, hugging him tightly.  
  
Will held him around the waist, finally getting a good look at the outfit he was wearing. A denim mini-skirt with a fraying hem grazed his thighs well above his knees. The skirt sat low on his hips, held up by protruding hipbones. His flat, hairless stomach was exposed, his chest covered by a sparkling silver-sequin tank top, held up by clear straps. Even the makeup was beautifully perfect, blue and silver glitter brushed carefully on his eyelids, long fake black eyelashes accenting his sparkling amber-hazel eyes. Yanking the skirt down to cover a bit more of his smoothly-shaven legs, he sat on Will's lap, still being held by him.  
  
"God, I am so glad to see you," the drag queen breathed, smiling at his new love interest.  
  
"You have no idea," Will mumbled dumbfounded by his appearance. "My God, you look amazing."  
  
"Thank you. You look nice too, honey," Angel said, caressing his face, gently. "Let's get out of here. I am starving!"  
  
"Fine with me," Will said, as Angel took hold of his hand, guiding him out of the club. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
"So tell me about you," Angel said, staring at his plate of pasta with soy meatballs and pesto sauce. The two men were sitting at a brown wooden table in the back corner of Spring Gardens. "I told you all about Lenny, Queenie, and my parents, but I haven't heard anything about you yet. I mean, besides being the only yuppie New England fag," Angel said, giggling.  
  
Smiling back at him, Will responded, "You really want to know?"  
  
"Absolutely," he insisted.  
  
"I guess I'll start form the beginning then," he sighed, and continued to stir his own identical plate of pasta. "I guess I kind of always knew I was gay. It wasn't like I woke up one day and was like 'Ooh, I love boys." It was just kind of. you know, always there.  
  
"New England sucks, especially Westport, Connecticut. You can probably tell I'm a full-bred New England prep, but that's not my fault, you know. It's just the way I was brought up."  
  
"I believe you, hon," Angel said, taking hold of his hand.  
  
"Thanks," Will replied, feeling his body warm by Angel's touch. "Anyway, you can imagine my parents wouldn't take it well if they knew I was gay. Come on, my name's William Dumott the third. I'm this legacy at Yale, my father inherited millions from his grandfather's business. We have a fucking beach house in Nantucket. I mean, every stupid stereotype of yuppie New-Englanders you can think of is exactly the way my family is. So I couldn't wait to get out. I needed to be anywhere but there. I had met this really great guy in Nantucket one summer, and we both had the same dilemma. His parents would never approve, and mine would never, either. When I came back home from Nantucket that summer, I couldn't get him off my mind. I missed him, and he missed me. I was 17, summer of my junior year in high school, and the homosexuality inside of me was exploding. I needed to tell my parents. I couldn't hold it in anymore."  
  
"I know the feeling," Angel mumbled, glancing down at his half-eaten plate of pasta.  
  
Gripping tighter to Angel's hand, Will started talking again. "You told me what your Dad did to you, and... I thought my dad would do the exact same thing. My parents had never hit me, or anything. I mean, the thought had never even crossed my mind. But when I told them I was gay, I really felt the slap before it happened. They didn't even believe me. My father thought it was some sort of sick joke. His son, his legacy. a faggot. At least he didn't get too violent, or anything. He just told me that I was getting sent to Yale with the 'right kind of people,' and I'd meet a girl there. It's like he thought that I'd be straight just cause he wanted me to be, you know."  
  
"At least he didn't throw you on the street, or anything, babe," Angel said, trying to console him.  
  
"Good point. But he sent me to Yale, dressed me in the classic prep- school attire, and left me there. It's almost as bad. I thought being a gay New-Englander was bad. God, try being gay at Yale University. I would have been completely shocked if there was even one other gay guy there. I'd never felt like such a minority in my whole life. So, last summer, at the end of my junior year of college hell, I dropped out. I used the money in my bank account to buy a cheap-shit used car, and drove down to Florida: the complete OPPOSITE of Connecticut. I got myself a job and all, and it was fine."  
  
"Then how did you end up here?"  
  
"I've always loved New York City. A couple of times, my family would go into the city when my dad was on business, and it just felt like home there. Once, I saw this gay couple kissing and holding each other, and I was completely in awe. Like, 'They can do that?!' and I knew that New York City would be my home. Florida was just temporary. After that spring, I came up here looking for a place to sell the clothes my ex-boyfriend made. Remember Nantucket boy?"  
  
Angel nodded.  
  
"Yeah, him. We broke up once I moved to Florida, but we stayed good friends and kept in touch. I rented out this place to sell his clothes. So here I am. two weeks later. In New York City, with the most beautiful person I've ever met," Will finished his story, motioning for Angel to come over and sit on his lap.  
  
Obediently, Angel popped up from his chair, scampering over to the other side of the table, situating himself comfortably on Will's lap.  
  
"Be with me, Angel," Will whispered into his ear, holding him tightly.  
  
"Will." Angel sighed, welcoming his touch.  
  
"You can work at the store, I need some help anyway. And I need you," he pleaded.  
  
"I. I don't know. I'm- I'm scared," he admitted, quietly.  
  
"You don't have to be. I know what you've been through, and I won't hurt you. Nothing could ever make me want to see you in pain. I want you to be happy, and I'll make you happy. Be my lover, Angel."  
  
Smiling sweetly, Angel planted a small, soft kiss on his lips. "You let me know about the hours at the store."  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
"Queenie, baby!" Angel called, sauntering into the club well after its closing. The summer night was extremely warm, making him comfortable in his skin-bearing ensemble. "Fred? Where are you guys?"  
  
Angel opened the door to find Queenie and Fred in the middle of a steamy make-out session.  
  
"Ang!" Queenie squeaked, pulling Fred's shirt down and fixing her wig.  
  
"Oh. God, I'm sorry!" Angel apologized, turning away from the couple so as not to stare.  
  
"It's okay, honey. Don't worry about it. You missed your party, though. We were all gonna celebrate, but you were gone. Enrico tells me you left with that boy. You didn't even introduce us!" she exclaimed with a false betrayal in her voice.  
  
"I know I know. And I'm SO SO sorry, honey, but he wanted to go, and I wanted to see him so bad. And he offered me a job! Imagine that! I wouldn't even have to bother you guys anymore," he gushed.  
  
Ang. we want you here! You're our best performer, and we love having you here," Queenie explained, the false drama-queen tone of voice replaced by a genuine concern.  
  
"I don't' have to inconvenience you. I'll just perform less, then. I'll only do weekends, is that alright?" he asked, enthusiastically.  
  
"I guess so, honey, but we'll miss you. You're still staying here, right?"  
  
"Yeah! Of course! Well, for now, at least. Oh my god! What if he asks me to move in with him?!" Angel squealed with excitement  
  
"Slow down, Ang, you've only known the boy a day now," Queenie said, holding the excited boy close to her chest.  
  
"I know, but it feels real this time. I'm crazy about him. Queenie, is that what love feels like?" he asked, looking like a little kid with hope in his eyes.  
  
"Baby, when it's true love, you won't even have to ask." 


	21. Chapter 20: Live In My House

Chapter 20: Live in my House  
  
Awakening on the fuzzy blue couch in his dressing room at the club, just as he had every morning, Angel stretched his arms over his head and smiled, thinking about Will.  
  
He had been working at Model Boy for a week now, and had been making good money between the make-out session and tickle fights. Every time he had to return to the club to perform, he was sad to have to leave Will. Each and every time they were together, Angel was overwhelmed by love. He was certain the love with Will was real. With Lenny, it was just puppy love. He was only sixteen when they started dating, and it seemed like years ago. He had fully moved on from his relationship with Lenny, and was looking forward to a new beginning with a new love interest.  
  
Working at the store was a lot less stressful than working at the club. He didn't have to worry about looking his absolute best every day. Granted, he still had to look nice for Will, but at least he didn't have to do the whole drag thing. Although he enjoyed dressing in drag, it got tiring to do day after day. Angel was fully enjoyed the short amount of time it took to get ready in the morning, and the extra sleep he could get by going to bed earlier and waking up later. The hours at the store were much more reasonable. He still performed on weekends, and on some weeknights, if he was up to it. Usually, though, he preferred to go out with Will, and enjoy his company.  
  
It was now 9AM, and Angel was getting up and getting ready to go to the store to celebrate his one-week anniversary of meeting Will. It was store policy that he had to wear the clothes that they sold at the store, so Angel slipped on the black t-shirt with the red "X" and the glittery jeans he had bought a week ago, on his birthday. Even though he was out of drag, Angel still enjoyed wearing makeup. He put on a little bit of sparkling eye shadow, and some sheer pink lip-gloss. It was nice to not have to cake on his makeup, layer by layer.  
  
Within a half hour, his hair was spiked up with gel, his makeup was perfected, and so was his outfit. With one last glance in the mirror, Angel winked at his reflection and left the club before Fred and Queenie had woken up.  
  
The early-morning summer air was cool and crisp, the streets virtually empty. Angel walked briskly, closing his eyes and letting the wind blow against his face, feeling the warmth of the sun. This was always his favorite time of the day: when he felt like he was the only one awake in a city that was usually so full of life. By this time, the junkies and prostitutes had retired to their respective shelters, and there was nobody outside. He remembered back to when he used to be one of those prostitutes. Shuddering at the memory of an empty heart, he continued his stroll from the club to the store.  
  
When he arrived, Will was just opening the door, smiling as he saw his new love walking down the street. Just like in the movies, Angel's pace quickened as he went to greet Will. Jumping up and wrapping his legs around Will's waist, Angel passionately kissed him just outside the run- down shop.  
  
"Good morning, honey," Angel greeted, as he still held himself up by his legs.  
  
"Hey beautiful. Somebody's cheerful this morning, what's up?" he asked, as he put Angel down, still holding his tightly, gazing into his eyes.  
  
"Nothing, babe. It's just a beautiful today, and I'm so happy to see you," Angel breathed, kissing him again.  
  
"Well, I'm happy to see you too. And we've got a lot of work to do today. I just got another shipment of clothes from Devin, and we have lots of boxes to unpack. It shouldn't be too bad, though," Will said, trying to stay optimistic.  
  
"It'll be great. We'll have a great day. And it's a special day, too. Do you know why?" Angel asked, giggling with happiness.  
  
"Of course I do! It's our one week anniversary. I told you I was good with dates," he gloated, and kissed Angel again. "And I have a surprise planned. But it's for during our lunch break, so you're just gonna have to be patient."  
  
"Aw, baby, you can't do that! Now I'm gonna be in suspense the whole day! No fair!" he pouted, crossing his arms and playfully stepping away from Will.  
  
"You know, you're really cute when you try to be angry," Will said, pulling Angel back to him and into the store to begin their long day of work.  
  
The hours had gone by so quickly, that the two young lovers hardly even realized that it was time for them to take their lunch break. With piles of empty cardboard boxes surrounding them, and lots more still waiting to be unpacked, the two men got up and began to walk towards Spring Gardens, their favorite restaurant.  
  
Hand in hand they walked down the dingy, disgusting alleys of Alphabet City, illuminated by the afternoon sunlight. Spring Gardens was only two blocks from Model Boy, at 12th street and Avenue B. They were both excited that their favorite restaurant was so close to work. Just like Lenny, Will teased Angel about being so calorie-conscious when they went out to eat, but Angel insisted on staying thin. He cared a great deal about his appearance, as did most drag queens he'd met over the past couple of weeks.  
  
As usual, they both ordered pasta with soy meatballs and pesto sauce, and then sat down together to wait for their lunch to arrive. Angel perched himself on Will's lap, straddling him and holding onto his arms for support.  
  
"So, what's this surprise you were telling me about?" Angel pestered, as he had been for the entire morning. He was good at keeping secrets from other people, but couldn't handle people keeping things from him.  
  
"I guess now's as good a time as any to tell you, isn't it?" Will said, holding onto Angel and gazing into them mystifying amber-hazel eyes.  
  
"No day but today, isn't that what they always say?" he teased.  
  
"Something along those lines. Anyway, I know we've only known each other a week," he paused. Angel liked where this was going. "And it's probably even crazy for me to bring this up to you. I mean, you have a life here, and I don't want to take that from you. You know? But anyway. Um, I uh. Angel, will you move in with me?" he asked quietly, almost inaudibly, and glanced away from Angel's eyes, blushing.  
  
"It's not crazy at all. You're right; I do have a life here, and you're a big part of that life. I really like you. And I would love nothing more than to live in your house. It's a dream come true," he said, with a smile stretching across his face, his eyes beaming with happiness and love.  
  
"Happy anniversary," Will whispered, as he and Angel began another intense period of kissing and groping.  
  
Clearing her throat loud enough to stop to public display of affection in the quaint restaurant, the waiter stood at the edge of the table occupied by the happy couple, waiting to serve them their food.  
  
"I'm sorry, honey," Angel said apologetically, getting up off Will and sitting back in his own designated chair.  
  
"It's fine," the usually-friendly waitress mumbled as she set the two plates of pasta down on the table.  
  
As she walked away, the two gazed lovingly at each other, barely even able to break eye contact.  
  
"Okay, so you're gonna come and meet Queenie and Fred, now. They're like my parents, and if I'm gonna go anywhere, I need to talk to them first," Angel explained, as he and Will closed the shop early for the afternoon to go and see Angel's adoptive "parents."  
  
Throughout the week they had known each other, Angel hadn't gone an hour without talking about Queenie or Fred. From what he'd said, Will realized that Fred was the man who introduced all the performers at the club, and Queenie, a drag queen, was his boyfriend.  
  
He hadn't met Queenie yet, but he'd heard nothing but good things about her. Angel kept saying how she was a saint, and he'd do anything for her. It almost made Will jealous, knowing that he was not the only owner of Angel's heart.  
  
"Here we are!" Angel exclaimed, as they approached the brick building, vandalized by pink and blue graffiti. "I'm warning you, though, they might get a bit emotional when I tell them I'm moving out. Especially Queenie. She can be a bit of a drama queen sometimes."  
  
"It's no problem. And if you need time alone with them, it's okay, I understand."  
  
"Thanks baby. You're the best," Angel told him, as they kissed and went into the club.  
  
It was weird to be in the club with nobody there. Angel was used to it, but Will was in awe. When he had been there, it had been dark, and he couldn't see much of anything. In the day, however, he could see the little mosaic details along the edge of the stage, and the velvet shimmer in the curtains. It was a surprisingly nice building, which was unexpected from the way the outside looked. That was the way most of New York City was: ugly on the outside, but there was always beauty from within.  
  
"Queenie!" Angel yelped as he ran up to her and hugged her.  
  
She was not at all how he expected her to look. When Angel had described her maternal personality, he had expected an older man in a dress straight out of Little House On The Prairie. She was not like that at all. She was downright beautiful, although not as radiant as Angel. Bluish black hair cascaded down her back in shiny waves, covering the back of her blue Asian-print dress, which fell just above her knees. Will never realized how short Angel was without his heels until he was next to Queenie, who towered over him.  
  
"Will, this is Queenie. Queenie, this is my boyfriend, William Dumott," Angel introduced them, proudly.  
  
Excited that he had just been called Angel's "boyfriend," Will extended his hand for a shake, but instead, found himself wrapped up in Queenie's arms tightly.  
  
"I am SO excited to meet you, darling. Angel's told me all about you. He can't even go an hour without talking about you!" she gushed.  
  
"Same with you. I've heard nothing but good things about you and Fred."  
  
"Ooh, that reminds me. Fred's out now, honey, he's at the doctor refilling his prescription," she informed Angel, "the doctors say his T- Cell count is good, and the AZT is helping."  
  
Shocked at the fact that Queenie was so open with Fred's HIV, Angel gave her a surprised look. Will seemed to be okay with it, so Angel continued to talk.  
  
"Queenie, honey, I need to talk to you about something," he said, seriously.  
  
"Ooh, this must be serious. Will, baby, I hate to do this to you, but do you think you could give us a few minutes alone?" Queenie asked.  
  
"Sure. Take your time," Will responded, understandingly.  
  
"Thanks baby," Angel said, kissing him as he left the room.  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
"Ang, I don't want you to go!" Queenie sobbed in Angel's arms, gripping on to his shoulders tightly.  
  
"It's the next step in growing up. I won't be that far, and I'll still be working here, if you want me to. I'll come back and visit as often as I can," Angel tried to reason with her. He knew Queenie was a drama queen, but he never expected her to get this emotional.  
  
"But you're like my son. You're like the kid Freddie and I could never have, and we want nothing more than for you to be happy. And even though we'll miss you like crazy, if living with this boy would make you happy, then I wish you the best of luck, and you know you'll always be welcome here," she said, drying her eyes, trying desperately not to smudge her makeup.  
  
"Queenie, you're gonna make me cry now! I'll miss you too, but it's not like I'll be that far. And I told you, I'll be back all the time, and I'll still be working, if you still want me here."  
  
"Baby, we could never replace you," she complimented, hugging Angel as her tears began to flow again.  
  
Feeling wetness in his own eyes, Angel hugged back his guardian, holding her tightly for what seemed like hours. The two stood there holding each other, like a parent finally letting their child go. Essentially, that's what it was. Queenie had been Angel's mother since his own had suffered an untimely death. Queenie took him in when he had nowhere to go, and accepted him for exactly who he was, and didn't make him change at all. To Queenie, Angel was the son she'd never be able to have. She loved him as if he were her own birth child; her own blood. Knowing she would do anything to make Angel happy, she released him, looking deeply into his young eyes.  
  
"You go with that boy, and make this relationship a damn good one. You deserve the best, Ang, and I really love you. I mean that."  
  
"I love you too. And I will come back, all the time. Even when I'm not working," he said, giving her a light peck on the cheek.  
  
Watching the young boy walk out of the club, holding his boyfriend's hand, she looked on like a proud parent. She knew he was young, and believed that he was in love, but she got a funny feeling from Will. Shaking it off as nothing, she said out loud to herself right after the boys left, "It's only because he doesn't look gay. I need to trust Angel's judgment more." If only she could convince herself to believe that.  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
Dun dun DUN! Oh, there's plenty more where that came from. Once again, read and review. I really apologize for the amount of sentimental crap in this one. Not one of my better chapters, but I need to get this story moving. I got big plans, hehe! And thanks to all of you who read this: it means more than you know. 


	22. Chapter 21: I Can't Believe A Year Went ...

A/N: Hey guys, sorry this took so long. This chapter took me frickin forever to write, since I had writers block for a solid 2 ½ weeks. Gah. Anyway, enjoy. Don't be afraid to review, by the way. I quite enjoy getting feedback (  
  
Chapter 21: I Can't Believe A Year Went By So Fast  
  
"Happy birthday to you, happy birthday to you, happy birthday dear Angel, happy birthday to you," Will sang softly to Angel, watching him turn over and wake up from a deep sleep.  
  
"Hey, baby," Angel greeted, rubbing his eyes and sitting up in bed.  
  
"You would not believe what I have planned for you," Will informed Angel, petting him affectionately on the top of his head.  
  
"And what would that be, darling?" Angel asked, beginning to wake up a little more.  
  
"You will have to wait and see. But, for now, I made you breakfast," he said, changing the subject.  
  
"Darling, I love you, but you can't cook. How did you manage to make breakfast?"  
  
"Okay, fine. I went to Dunkin Doughnuts and picked some stuff up. But, technically I did make it. I mean, I put the cream cheese on the bagel, and the sugar in the coffee!" he said, defending himself.  
  
Giggling, Angel sat up and hugged Will tightly, "It's okay. It'll taste great no matter what."  
  
Picking Angel up out of bed, and carrying him into the kitchen, Will kissed him, and, looking into his eyes passionately, he said, "Happy anniversary. We met exactly one year ago today, and it's been the best year of my life, Ang."  
  
"I know," he said, holding onto Will and looking back at him, "I love you so much."  
  
"Love you too, beautiful."  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
It was June 22nd, 1994. Exactly one year ago, Will and Angel had met at Model Boy, on Angel's eighteenth birthday. Since then, the relationship had been nothing but wonderful. The only problem Angel had was Queenie. He loved Queenie like he loved his own mother, but her criticism towards Will had been bugging him. Queenie had told him, on multiple occasions, that she didn't trust Will as far as she could throw him, which was, apparently, not very far. Every time Angel came by the club with Will, Queenie barely even acknowledged his presence. It was extremely out of character for her, being a loud, friendly, and loving person. Angel had never even imagined she could be so cold. Her animosity was affecting his relationship with Will, as well. He was afraid that Queenie hated him for taking her "son" away, and that he was unwanted in their "family." Angel tried to reassure him that this wasn't the case, but he had always been a bad liar. He loved Queenie and Will dearly, and it was difficult for him to have the two people who he loved most not get along.  
  
Today, however, was Angel's birthday, and last night he had informed Queenie that he was to be nice to Will today, for both of their sakes. They were celebrating a one year anniversary and Angel's real nineteenth birthday. Queenie had found out, recently, that Angel had lied about his age to get into the club. She hadn't been too pleased at first, but, as she always told him, "You do what you have to do to survive, darling."  
  
Every time he and Angel walked into the club on the off-hours, Will was amazed at how still and beautiful it was. He never understood the people who hung out at the night clubs all day, but now he did. The little pieces of confetti and glitter littered the scratched, worn dance floor as Enrico, the bar tender, endlessly attempted to clean them up. There was a warm, bohemian feel to the deserted club, and Will loved the feel of it all. Holding tightly onto Angel's hand, the happy couple walked slowly to the doors that led backstage to go meet Queenie.  
  
The dark and dreary blue curtains were drawn, closing the stage off. From behind the curtains, Queenie appeared with a megawatt smile on her face.  
  
"ANG!" she squealed, clasping her hands together and giggling, "I was wondering when you'd get here! Boy, have I got a surprise for you!" She did a little jump, and then twirled around, rushing back behind the curtains.  
  
Moments later, the deep blue sea of velvet parted, revealing a huge glittering disco ball, and an ensemble of drag queens, all dressed to impress, singing backup to Queenie.  
  
Her strong, sensual voice echoed through the club as she sang People by Barbara Streisand, the song Angel had sung the night he found out about Fred's HIV. Tears flowed freely down Angel's face as he listened to the beautiful music, closing his eyes as Will's arms wrapped tightly around his waist. Frequently throughout the song, Angel would reach up to wipe his tears before his face turned into a river of running makeup.  
  
The last chords of the song were sung quietly by the backup singers as Queenie smiled sweetly, and stepped off the stage. Breaking away from Will's embrace momentarily, Angel embraced her and received a kiss on the cheek.  
  
"Happy birthday honey," Queenie told him, "I am loving your outfit, by the way. Did Tiff help you pick it out?"  
  
"Nope, I did this one all by myself. Your little baby is growing up!" Angel exclaimed proudly, looking at his rainbow-striped tube dress and clunky platform heels. Fluffing his wig and wiping the tears from his eyes one more time, Angel went back to holding Will's hand.  
  
"Hi Queenie," Will greeted her, hoping that today he'd manage to squeeze a smile out of the vivacious drag queen.  
  
"Oh, hi William," she said. Angel constantly introduced him as "Will" not "William," but Queenie refused to use his nickname. "Happy anniversary," she said with an almost bitter tone to her voice.  
  
"Thank you!" Angel and Will said in unison, giggling and gazing into each other's eyes.  
  
"Why, hello there, young lovers!" Fred called from the steps leading off the stage. He scooped Queenie up into his arms, kissing her neck. "Happy anniversary to both of you," he paused, released Queenie, and then continued, "Hey, Angel, why don't you and me go out for a birthday lunch? Where's that place you keep talking about, Spring Gardens is it?"  
  
"Yeah, that's the place. Okay, let's go!" Angel exclaimed, sounding like a hyper little kid.  
  
Winking at Will and Queenie on the way out, Fred guided Angel out of the club.  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
"Thank you so much for taking the time to talk to me," Will said to Queenie once Angel and Fred were out of sight. Will had planned this entire thing, calling up Fred each day during the prior week to make arrangements to carry out his plan. Will was determined to talk to Queenie alone, and he knew that the only way he'd be able to do that would be to get Angel out of the building with Fred. Fred had been more than willing to help with the plan, once Will had told him what, exactly would be going on. Angel was completely clueless, and Queenie only knew that Will wanted to speak with her.  
  
"Oh, it's no problem," Queenie said, sounding slightly distracted and annoyed as she spoke with Will, looking through him, rather than at him.  
  
"I had a question to ask you," Will began.  
  
"Ask away."  
  
"Okay, well I know that you are like a mother to Angel. I mean, he goes on forever about how much he loves you and Fred. It's obvious that you both mean the world to him, so I figured that since you are his family, you know, I should. sorry, I'm rambling. I'll cut to the chase. Queenie, Angel and I have been together for a year now, and it's been the best year of my life. Angel is the most wonderful person I've ever met, and I love him more than I love anyone else on earth. I want to devote my life to him. I want to marry him, but I need your permission," he spit out, hands sweating and shaking with nerves.  
  
The dazzling smile on her face dimmed and began to fade out. "What do you mean 'marry him?' You can't, I mean, not legally," she explained, speaking to him as if he were five years old.  
  
"Oh, I know that. But, I mean, we could have a sort of 'mock wedding' as a symbol for our devotion to each other. It can be like a real marriage, minus the legal stuff," he explained, as Queenie's smile began to fade even further until it was barely noticeable.  
  
"You love him that much?" she asked with surprise.  
  
Confused by her tone of voice, Will continued slowly, "Of course I do. I told you, Angel is everything to me. He's the love of my life. Why do you sound so shocked?"  
  
"I have to tell you flat out," she explained, staring intensely into the ocean-blue eyes, "I don't trust you. I've had a funny feeling about you and Angel from the beginning. I mean, it could just be because you don't look 'gay' if you get what I'm saying. Honestly, if you had walked into this club, I probably would have guided you out, assuming you had come to the wrong place."  
  
Will continued to stare, perplexed, back at her.  
  
Continuing, "But that's not it. I don't care that you don't look 'gay.' I mean, who's to say what's 'gay' and what's not? There is something about the two of you that just makes me nervous. Like. I don't know," she stumbled over her words.  
  
"If you think I won't be faithful, you're mistaken," Will insisted, his voice rising slightly.  
  
"Oh no, it's not that. From the way you were speaking just now, any reservations I had about your loyalty are gone. It's just. Angel's like my son, honey, you know? God, this is so hard," she paused and laughed nervously, "I can't share him with anyone."  
  
"So you're telling me that I don't have your permission?" Will asked, angrily.  
  
"It's not even that my permission will stop you both from doing what you're gonna do. It's obvious you love him, but, you need to understand, this is hard for me. I mean, for me and Fred. Angel really is the child we never had. He's my son in every way, and it's hard for me to let my baby go. He came to me when he had nobody, and we've been a constant support system for each other. Having him not living here anymore is hard enough, and now knowing that he is truly sharing his heart with someone else is so hard. I mean, I guess you can have my permission, but that doesn't mean that I agree with what you want to do," she explained. Will was surprised at her blatant honesty. Angel had always said that Queenie was an awful liar.  
  
"I wish. I wish that I could change your mind," he mumbled quietly, more to himself than to her.  
  
"All you can do is love him. That boy's got a big heart with a lot of extra love (author's note: YAY ZANNA DON'T!) to go around. You just treat him right, and it'll be alright," she reassured, smiling a brilliant grin again, and holding his hand. This was the first sign of affection and friendship she'd shown towards him since they'd met a year ago.  
  
"Thank you. Really, this means a lot to me," he told her sincerely.  
  
"I know it does. I wouldn't hand my son over to anybody, honey, believe me."  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
Fred and Angel waltzed happily back into the club, welcomed by Queenie and Will, who were sitting and having a conversation. Both men were astonished, as they knew that their significant others didn't get along too well.  
  
"Glad to see you two chatting!" Angel exclaimed, perching himself on top of Will's knee.  
  
"Well, we're glad you're back," Will replied, smiling at Queenie and holding his lover.  
  
"Babe, we need to clean up backstage before Trish and everyone comes tonight. Come with me," Queenie insisted as she dragged Fred behind the heavy blue curtains with her.  
  
"So." Will began, still holding onto Angel.  
  
"I'm so happy for you and Queenie! What did you guys talk about?" Angel inquired, bursting with excitement.  
  
"Um, just some. stuff. you know. She doesn't like me very much, though," he said, immediately regretting it right after he said it.  
  
Watching the excitement drain from his eyes, Will saw confusion and anger engulf the amber-hazel orbs as Angel asked, "What do you mean?"  
  
"Well, it's not that she doesn't like me, I mean. she basically said she didn't trust me, and stuff. It's not really a big deal, I mean, we worked most of it out. You saw us, we were talking; having a civilized conversation. Hell, I was even enjoying her company," he said, trying to steer Angel away from the topic of conversation.  
  
"Why wouldn't she trust you? Will, honey, that's not right. I need to discuss this with her," he insisted, "What's wrong with her?"  
  
"No, no, Ang, it's fine, really. I told you, we worked everything out, we're cool now!" Will exclaimed, pleading with him not to talk to Queenie about it. Will knew full-well that he probably shouldn't have even said anything to Angel, after having just gotten on Queenie's good side. If Angel went to go talk to her, then Queenie would probably go straight back to not trusting him and treating him like some invisible shadow.  
  
"I'm going. You wait here, and I'll be back later," Angel informed him, kissing him on the lips to seal the decision.  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
As usual, Queenie and Fred were mid-grope when Angel walked in on them.  
  
"Nothing I haven't seen before, guys," Angel said, laughing as Queenie fumbled to put Fred's shirt back on.  
  
"Can we help you with anything darling?" Queenie asked, smiling brilliantly at him as she always did.  
  
"Yes, actually. Queenie, hon, I need to have a word with you," Angel said, firmly.  
  
"Okay. Freddie, baby, excuse us for a minute," Queenie got up and kissed him on the cheek. Fred exited the room, closing the door behind him.  
  
"Ang, what's the deal?"  
  
"I just talked to Will," he stated, assuming that she would know exactly what he was referring to.  
  
"And." she continued, obviously confused.  
  
"He told me what you said about him. How you don't trust him, and everything. Why would you say that about him?" Angel demanded, his voice getting louder.  
  
"Calm down. You know that I've felt weird about him from the beginning. There's something about him that I just don't like, and I don't trust it," she explained, nonchalantly.  
  
"Listen, if you think he's not faithful, then -,"  
  
"Funny you should say that, because he said exactly the same thing to me. That I would be crazy if I thought he wouldn't be faithful to you. I don't doubt his loyalty. From the way he talked about you, I could tell he'd be willing to sacrifice anything for you. I know you mean the world to him, but I just don't trust him. He's sketchy," she concluded. Sweeping a stray strand of her wig away from her deep almond eyes, she continued, "Here's the thing. I love you Angel. You and Fred are my world; you're all I've got, and I don't want to lose you."  
  
"You won't lose me, why would you think that?"  
  
"You're like my son, you know that. If I had a kid, I'd imagine that he or she would be a lot like you, and I love that. You've got a big heart, with a lot of love to spread around. I'm just being selfish. I don't want to share you with anybody else. I don't like knowing that I'm not the only love in your heart now, and that some yuppie boy is taking my place."  
  
Angel had to giggle when she said "yuppie boy." "Queenie, baby, nobody will ever take your place. I love Will a lot, but you're like my mother. I'll never love anybody the way I love you. You just need to trust me on this. And there's nothing 'sketchy' about Will. He's perfectly legit, I promise you that," he insisted.  
  
"I wish." she sighed, "I wish I could believe you. But even after I had worked everything out with him, I still got a funny feeling about him. Like something bad is gonna happen with you two, or something. Something really bad." She twirled her hair, nervously.  
  
"You're just being over protective. You need to let me go. I'm nineteen years old, and I've been through a lot more trauma than most people twice my age. I deserve some good, and Will's gonna give me that. Let me go," he said, sweetly, taking hold of her hand.  
  
"I love you. I'll always be here for you, no matter what you do, and no matter what happens with you and Will, or with anybody. But I don't agree with what you're choosing," she said, letting go of his hand, casting her eyes down to the floor and pulling her lace skirt down.  
  
"I'm not asking for your approval, just your support."  
  
"You have it," she mumbled and sighed, her face completely void of a smile.  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
Angel walked out of the backstage hallway feeling a weight of resentment in his chest. He found himself questioning a future with Will. This was very uncharacteristic of Queenie. Usually, she was nothing but supportive and approving of what he did, but when it came to Will, everything changed. He couldn't understand her animosity towards him, and he didn't want to understand it. Like it or not, he was nineteen years old, a legal adult, and Queenie was no longer responsible for his decisions. "She'll just have to deal with it," he said quietly to himself, as he approached Will.  
  
Out of the corner of his eye, Will saw Angel coming towards him, and he reached into his pocket and pulled out a small green box. Angel leaned down to kiss him, but instead, Will got up out of his seat and lowered himself to the floor on one knee.  
  
Nervous and surprised, Angel looked down at him as he took a hold of his lover's hand, gazing longingly into his eyes.  
  
"Angel Schunard, you are the love of my life," Will began, "I want nothing more than to devote my entire life to being with you and making you happy. I know it won't be legal or anything, but, Angel, will you marry me?"  
  
Angel tasted his own salty tears before he even realized he was crying. Kneeling in a skirt was not easy to do, but Angel managed to lower himself to the floor and wrap his arms around Will in a brilliantly happy embrace. "Yes." 


	23. Chapter 22: True Devotion

Chapter 22: True Devotion  
  
Queenie and Fred wasted no time in setting plans for the wedding. Although Queenie disagreed completely with Will and Angel devoting their lives to each other, she was still psyched beyond belief to plan a wedding. It was decided that the two lovers would exchange vows in Central Park. The early-summer scenery was too beautiful to pass up. The reception, however, would be held at Club Tran. Both Queenie and Fred were convinced that, if given the opportunity, the club could be a beautiful reception hall. Skeptically, Angel and Will agreed, but only to please the wedding planners.  
  
The "big day" was only two weeks after Will proposed, since there was no out of town family to be invited, as Will's parents didn't approve of his homosexuality, Angel's mother was dead, and his father was long gone. The only people Angel wanted to invite were Ceci and Carlotta Casablanca, the people his mother had stayed with during her final days. He felt he owed it to them to let them know where he was, and what was happening with him. They had, after all, cared for his mother, who he loved dearly.  
  
Will had only wished to invite his ex-boyfriend, and best friend, Bart, to the ceremony. He was, as Angel so affectionately referred to him as, "Nantucket Boy," and the one who designed and manufactured the clothes at Model Boy.  
  
Aside from Will and Angel's short guest list, the guests would be a sea of transvestites wearing fancy, sparkling evening gowns, and flamboyant gay men, all dressed sharply in well-tailored tuxedos. The event was, after all, being planned by Queenie, who would have rather cancelled the gathering than have some unfashionable attire present. This made shopping for Angel's wedding dress all the more interesting.  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
"Ang, I am going to find you the PERFECT dress!" Queenie announced as she walked briskly into Angel and Will's apartment. The lovers knew that giving her and Fred their own key was a mistake.  
  
"Queenie, honey, it's eight AM," Angel hollered from the bedroom, still cuddling with Will after a night of peaceful slumber.  
  
"You're darn right it is! So we better get a move on. Out of bed, now! Come on, we can't waste any time. The wedding is in less than a week, and you still don't have a dress! I thought that would have been your top priority," she scolded as she entered the bedroom, greeted by a pair of topless lovers holding one another. Sighing, she continued, "I'm not kidding, get up! The dress shop is uptown, so we need to go."  
  
"You're not very patient this morning, are you?" Will asked, stretching and finally beginning to leave the bed he was so comfortable in.  
  
"No, I'm not!" Queenie exclaimed, "not when there is shopping to be done. And this isn't just some fun shopping spree, this is a wedding dress! It's important! So we need to goooo!" she whined as Angel and Will lethargically got out of bed.  
  
Pulling on Angel's arms, Queenie yanked him out of bed. "I'm going, I'm going," Angel insisted, as he stepped into the bathroom with a pair of glitzy jeans and a tiny tank top. "We'll be outta here by 9, I swear."  
  
"8:30," Angel heard from behind the closed bathroom door. Rolling his eyes, he got dressed and began his lengthy morning regiment.  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
By 8:45, Queenie and Angel were off to buy the perfect dress. Queenie had insisted that Will not come, rambling something about how it was bad luck if the groom saw the bride's wedding dress before the day of the ceremony.  
  
Queenie was right: the dress shop was far away. She hated walking anywhere too far in fear of ruining her expensive heels, so her and Angel took the bus. Angel didn't like the subway, because it reminded him of the day his mother died, so he hadn't been on one since them, and Queenie didn't trust cab drivers. She thought it was strange being in a car with a random person that she didn't know. With all the homophobia that existed in society, Queenie knew that a public bus would be their safest bet.  
  
After an interminable bus ride, the two drag queens finally arrived at the dress shop. The store looked like a standard "special occasions" shop for women, as opposed to drag queens. Angel knew better than that, though. Prior to their outing, Queenie had told him that the uptown queens were very secretive. Most of the people who came into the drag shops didn't even realize that clothes were made for men instead of women. In some cases, they even had the drag clothes in a special, closed off section in the back. Queenie insisted that it was her own knack for knowing where and how to shop that had led her to these secretive drag palaces where she'd found some of her favorite and most treasured ensembles.  
  
Entering the store quietly, Queenie headed straight to the back of the store, holding Angel's hand and dragging him behind her. She knocked three times on the "Employees only" door, and a beautiful woman came to answer.  
  
"Queenie honey!" she squealed as she opened the door and let the two of them in. "It's been entirely too long. I haven't seen you in, what a couple of months?"  
  
"It has been too long, darling. You haven't met Angel. Ang, this is Katie. She's an old friend of mine, and my all time favorite shopping partner," Queenie introduced, hooking an arm around Katie's waist.  
  
"It is so nice to meet you, Angel. How did you and Queenie meet?" she asked, cocking her head slightly to the side, letting her long, flowing blonde waves bounce over her shoulders.  
  
"Um, it's kind of a long story, but I was homeless, wandered into the club, and she took me in," Angel explained, making the story as brief as possible.  
  
"Oh, well I'm glad you two found each other. Queenie's been known to house some street kids once in a while. How long have you known each other?"  
  
"Over a year now. God, I can't believe it's been that long," Angel answered, thinking back to his first night meeting Queenie.  
  
"Oh wow. You're not just some average stray then. She must really like ya," Katie answered back winking in Queenie's direction.  
  
"You're darn right honey. Angel's like my son, which is why we're here, actually," Queenie chimed in.  
  
"Oh, alright. Well, what can I help you with?"  
  
"Angel is getting married!" Queenie yelped as a large grin spread over her shiny pink lips.  
  
"AH!" she squealed, as her blue eyes lit up and she took hold of Angel's hand, "So you want a wedding dress?"  
  
"Yeah." Angel replied, afraid of what Katie had in store for him.  
  
"So, we were thinking you'd be able to help us out. You know the most about fashion. Even I'm in awe of your matching skills," Queenie admitted.  
  
"Well, I try." Katie said, blushing, then continued, "So what kind of look are you going for, Angel? Do you want something that's more understated, or something that is over the top?" She began to rapidly search through her racks of white dresses, examining Angel every few seconds and picking out a select few gowns.  
  
"I'm thinking something more understated," Angel replied, getting a sharp look from Queenie.  
  
"Babe, this is your wedding, don't you wanna go all-out?" Katie questioned.  
  
"Well, yeah, but it's a small ceremony, and. I don't know," Angel said, bashfully.  
  
"Angel, honey," Queenie said, "You can be as understated or over-the- top as you want, it's your special day."  
  
"I'll try it all and see what works best," he agreed.  
  
"Great!" Katie squealed and pulled Angel to more identical racks of white gowns. "Oh my gawd honey," she exclaimed as she selected an iridescent, floor-length gown off the rack, "my boyfriend's ex wore a dress just like this to some convention he went to, the gaudy little bitch. This dress is totally not made for a function like that, it is strictly bridal attire," she educated them both as she shook her head in shame looking at the dress.  
  
"Um, sorry for asking, but you said boyfriend. You're straight?" Angel asked politely, trying hard not to be too nosy.  
  
"Ang, I had 'the operation'," she said, giggling as she tossed her blonde locks behind her shoulders.  
  
"Oh," Angel replied, looking at Katie and wondered how on earth she could have ever been a man. Brushing it off, he continued to follow her as she selected more dresses for him to try on, each one a bit heavier and flashier than the last.  
  
Finally, the three determined shoppers reached the final rack, filled now with glitter and sequins instead of simple satin gowns.  
  
"This will do wonders for those eyes of yours," Katie said, thrusting yet another dress into his already-full arms.  
  
"Um, Katie, I think I have enough," Angel gasped, out of breath from pacing around the store with such heavy things in his arms.  
  
"Oh dear, I guess you're right. Well then, the dressing room is right over there," she pointed to a black velvet curtain, "Let me know what you think of them, if you need a different size or anything."  
  
"Ang, I want to see it all," Queenie insisted, as she always did, and winked at him.  
  
"Sure sure," he said, dragging himself and dresses into the tiny fitting room.  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
"Queenie, this is the twentieth dress I've tried on!" Angel moaned as he zipped himself up into yet another sea of white satin and sequins. By now, he was sick and tired of seeing himself in so many seemingly-identical gowns, each one looking more and more homogenous. Trudging out of the dressing room, he was greeted by an excited Queenie, and an observant Katie.  
  
"I'm not feeling this one. It's too low-cut, and I think a higher neckline would look better on you," Katie nodded as a cue for Angel to return, yet again, to the fitting room and try on another dress.  
  
"This is the last one," he insisted as he unzipped the puffy, low-cut gown and stepped into a much more fitted, satin dress with a beaded neckline. Zipping up in the back, he twirled around the tiny fitting room, watching the train of soft, satin fabric trail behind him. Winking at his reflection, he examined the beaded embroidery on the front of the dress, tracing the swirls and zigzags with his finger. He turned around slightly so he could see the back of the dress, which had a low scoop and strands of glittery rhinestones hanging from the button at the top of the neck. Katie was right- the high-cut neckline worked well on him. It made him look a bit healthier, not so toothpick-skinny like he was. The cut out in the back with the rhinestones was beautiful as well.  
  
"This is it," he said to himself as he stepped out of the dressing room, greeted by two approving stares.  
  
"I told you that neckline would look good on you!" Katie exclaimed, examining Angel's body closely, poking and tugging at different sections of the dress. Stepping back and nodding, she smiled and agreed with him. "This is the one. It's perfect."  
  
"Angel baby, I am speechless!" Queenie said, just smiling and nodding in his direction. Having her at a loss of words was quite an accomplishment; usually, he'd be trying desperately to get her to shut up. "So it's settled, then." She said, after a long pause. "We'll take it."  
  
Grinning, Angel stepped back into the dressing room and took off the gown. He put his tiny tank top and sparkly jeans back on, reapplied his lip gloss and left the dressing room, carrying his beautiful wedding dress with him.  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
While he walked with Queenie up to the register, both of them following Katie's bouncy blonde hair, Angel looked at the price tag on the dress and gasped. The dress was a LOT more expensive than he'd anticipated, and he felt guilty making Queenie pay that much. As he handed it to her to pay for it, he said "It's okay if you don't want to pay this much. I'll work more at the club to pay you back."  
  
Smiling sweetly and shaking her head she responded, "This is my wedding gift to you: the dress, the party, everything. Even though I'm not a huge fan of this William boy, I want the best for you, and if this is what is going to make you happy, I'm with you one hundred percent of the way. I love you Ang, no matter how much money I have to drop on you." She winked at him and wrapped her arm around his shoulders, resting her head lightly on top of his.  
  
Sighing and placing his own arm around her waist, Angel smiled. "I love you too."  
  
After Queenie had paid with her credit card, Katie put the dress in a black plastic garment back, making sure that Queenie and Angel were careful to keep the whereabouts of their purchase quiet. The yuppie, uptown brides would NOT be thrilled if they knew the shop also catered to the gay community.  
  
"Have a WONDERFUL wedding," she told Angel, "and you have to come back and tell me all about it."  
  
"Katie, baby, you can come if you like," Queenie said, as if it had been implied, "We'd love to have you. It's next week, July 6th, at the "Imagine" memorial in Central Park, reception at the club to follow. Come if you like."  
  
"I'll do my best to be there, I'd really love to. Thanks for the invite. Take care, you two!" she said as the happy pair left the store.  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
As Queenie put the finishing touches on Angel's makeup, he reached up to touch his soft blonde wig and fix the flowers that were placed delicately within the false strands. She stepped back from his face, and he examined himself in the mirror, thoroughly impressed with what he saw.  
  
He was truly a vision in white, the shiny, satin dress hugging his skinny body, with the strands of crystals draping down his back, sparkling in the summer sunlight. The embroidery on the neckline of the dress accented Angel's long, blonde wig and dramatic makeup perfectly. Tiny purple stitches in the petals of the flowers brought out the lilac eyeshadow he was wearing, and the pink centers accented his pale pink lips. Even the wig he was wearing was beautiful: long, flowing blonde locks with small white flowers placed randomly throughout the front his hair. He felt truly beautiful for the first time in a while, and wished that his biological mother could be here to see him. Although he knew she wouldn't be pleased with his decision to dress in drag, she would love to have seen him walk down the "aisle" and "marry" a man that would bring him to a life of blissful happiness.  
  
His nerves were beginning to get the best of him, as he chewed on his freshly-manicured nails that still smelled of the salon.  
  
"Baby, you're gonna bite all the polish off. You'll be fine, Fred'll walk you down in a few minutes," Queenie reassured him, resting a maternal hand on his shoulder.  
  
"I'm so nervous, I don't know why I'm so nervous!" he laughed quickly and awkwardly, "I just. I wish Mami was here. I mean, I love you and Fred like my own parents, you know that, but I remember looking at pictures of Mami and Papi from their wedding in Peru, and she looked so beautiful and happy. I know she'd love this." He managed a shy smile as he leaned his head against Queenie.  
  
"She is here, Ang. She's watching over you right now, and I know she's damn proud," she said, smiling down at him and hugging him even tighter.  
  
"Thanks, Queenie. I love you so much,"  
  
"Ready, beautiful?" Fred interrupted as he walked into the tent they had been getting ready in.  
  
"Ready as I'll ever be," Angel replied, releasing himself from Queenie and gently holding onto Fred's arm. As the two exited the tent, the door flapped closed behind them.  
  
"I love you too," Queenie said to the empty air, "I just hope this is right."  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
"Do you, Angel Schunard, take William Dumott to be your husband, in sickness and in health, as long as you both shall live?"  
  
"I do," Angel replied, gazing into Will's eyes.  
  
"And do you, William Dumott, take Angel Schunard to be your, uh" he paused uneasily, "wife, in sickness and in health, as long as you both shall live?"  
  
"I do."  
  
"By the power invested in me, I know pronounce you." he paused again, and glanced around at the audience briefly, "Partners for life. You may kiss the bride."  
  
Will scooped Angel up in his arms, meshing their lips together in a sea of passion. The wind blew around them, rustling the luscious green trees and flowers that surrounded the serene location of the ceremony. Clapping and cheering began behind the two lovers as they released one another and looked around. Queenie got up from her seat in the very front row, and wiped her eyes diligently enough as to not destroy her perfect makeup.  
  
"The reception will resume at Club Tran, on the corner of 11th street and Avenue C," she announced as the sea of guests arose from their seats and proceeded to waltz onto the bus that she had rented for the special occasion.  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
Queenie tapped lightly on her wine glass as she stood up. The crowd silenced quickly as she walked over to the microphone. Her floor-length, scarlet-red dress swished as she walked, the sequins glimmering under the dim lighting inside the club.  
  
"Angel," she said, smiling at him as he sat quietly on Will's lap, "I don't even know where to begin. I remember so vividly the first day you walked into this club. You were so scared. I swear, when I first saw you and we bumped into each other, I thought 'Oh dear Lord, this child is going to DIE of fright!' You looked so young and so terrified." The crowd smiled at her, as if they were urging her to continue. "Beneath it all, though, I could see you were beautiful. Most of all, what I remember, though, is seeing a mirror image of myself when I first came here. I was just as scared, and just as alone, and the only difference was that I had nobody to help me out. I was completely and totally on my own. And I remembered the hell that I went through, and I didn't want someone else to experience that.  
  
"That was over a year ago. Now, it's hard to remember what my life was like before I met you. I can speak for both Fred and I when I say that there is no greater joy in our lives than having you. You're like our own child, and I tell that to you all the time. As much of a fabulous woman as I make," she smiled as the comment elicited laughter from the jovial crowd, "I'm no woman, and I can't have kids, so you're it. You're my son. I know Fred and I can never take the place of your real parents, but, in a lot of ways, we are a family, whether it be by blood or not. We love each other, and that's what important.  
  
"Today is a day just for you. I remember you telling me about what your mother said to you right before she departed straight to heaven," she continued with tears brimming in her deep brown eyes, "Today for you, tomorrow for me. That's the most beautiful thing I've ever heard, and today is for you. Today is entirely dedicated to you and your happiness, because, Lord knows, you put everyone else before yourself, and you deserve more happiness than anyone I know. This is your day, Angel, enjoy it, and be happy.  
  
"William," glancing in his direction, she wiped her tears and smiled sincerely at him for the first time since he'd known her, "You take care of my boy. I wish the two of you all the happiness in the world, and whenever you need us, Fred and I are here for you. Both of you.  
  
"So I'd like to propose a toast: To Angel and William, and a life of love, friendship and happiness. Today for you, tomorrow for me," she stated firmly, as the guests quietly raised their glasses, chorusing in unison, "To Angel and William!"  
  
The party took off like a firecracker after the sweet, sappy speech. The techno music pumped loudly, quaking the run-down building. Looking like a usual night at the club, there was a sea of sparkles and sharply dressed guests as they all danced intensely with the beat of the music.  
  
Will and Angel, relishing in their recent exchange of life-long love sat quietly together, gazing into each other's eyes, dumbfounded by the true devotion and meaning of their vows.  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
Authors Note: I really hope y'all liked this one, it took me a LONG time to write. Just as a bit of a warning: there will be a rather vivid sex scene in the next chapter. Our happy couple was just married, so now it's time for the "after party" if you catch my drift. Anyway, if you don't approve of that kind of stuff, or don't like reading it, then don't. It won't be pornographic or anything, but it may be a bit too vivid for some. Anyway, as usual, please read and review, and I do quite love feedback. Anything you got to say, let me hear it. Thanks to all of you who have reviewed already, your support means the world to me! And Meredith- thank you for bringing up the point about Angel's mother. I went back today and edited this chapter to add a bit more of that in. 


	24. Chapter 23: Red Heat

Author's Note: So this isn't as racy as I had planned, which, I think, is a good thing. It's not too long, but I hope y'all enjoy it. and yes, I will be updating more frequently for the next 2 weeks or so, I'm thinking maybe every couple of days, so check back often ( and thanks for the reviews guys, I love ya!  
  
Chapter 23: Red Heat  
  
After hours of mingling, chatting, and laughing with the guests, Will and Angel were finally left alone in the deserted club. The floor was littered with confetti and ripped streamers where there were once throngs of people dancing wildly to the music. Angel and Will looked around the club, in awe of its silence and emptiness, watching the spinning of the giant silver disco ball above their heads.  
  
"Mr. Dumott," Angel said, holding tightly onto his lover's hand, "What do you say we, you know, continue this party elsewhere?"  
  
"Miz Dumott," Will replied, laughing, "I was thinking exactly the same thing. To the apartment?"  
  
"To the apartment!" Angel agreed, as he and Will got up and began to walk home.  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
"They're gone," Queenie said to Fred, as they both came out from backstage to begin the massive clean up they had ahead of them.  
  
"It was a beautiful ceremony, and your speech was amazing, baby," he said to her, holding onto her shoulders tightly.  
  
"I'm still. I'm still nervous about them. God, I don't even know what it is, but I get this sinking feeling in my stomach every time I think about that boy and my Angel together," she admitted, glancing around the club with an anxious look on her face.  
  
"You really need to learn to trust Angel better. I know you love him, and you're protective over him. So am I. But you need to realize that, like it or not, he can't live under our shelter forever. He's growing up," Fred said, trying to cheer her up.  
  
"He's only nineteen. I can't even picture myself thinking about marriage when I was nineteen. I just can't help the feeling that something is really bad is going to happen, like Will's going to. God," she laughed nervously and leaned against Fred, "I don't even know. I'm just being paranoid."  
  
"Yes, you are just being paranoid!" he teased her, "He seems like a decent kid. Just let it go, everything will be fine. If Angel has any problems at all, you know he's gonna come to us."  
  
"That I know for sure," she stated, matter-of-factly.  
  
A shrill beep broke the silence in the air. Sighing and looking down at his belt, Fred turned his beeper off and reached into the inside pocket of his suit, pulling out a large white pill. "AZT break," he said softly.  
  
Smiling sadly, Queenie leaned closer against him. "Speaking of AZT, they both got tested, didn't they?"  
  
"Yeah, Angel didn't tell you?" he asked, puzzled as the pill slipped down his throat.  
  
"He told me they were both getting tested, but he didn't say what the results were."  
  
"Negative. Both of them. It's a miracle that Angel's negative, after what he did the first few months he was here," he paused to reset his beeper to alert him the next time he needed to take the life-saving pills. "He's really lucky."  
  
"He is," Queenie replied.  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
The apartment was dark and still when they arrived. As Will picked Angel up to carry him through the doorway, as all newlyweds did, he flicked on the lights and ran to their bedroom, plopping his lover onto the bed.  
  
"I love you, Angel," he said, staring deep into the amber eyes of his love.  
  
"I love you too, Will."  
  
He smiled and began to take off his jacket. Angel sat and watched as he slowly unbuttoned it, then saw the heavy black fabric fall to the floor. Next came the tie that he ripped off quickly, and then he began to unbutton his shirt, revealing his strong stomach muscles and smooth, hairless chest. Angel giggled at the mini strip show that was going on.  
  
Smiling slyly, Will looked at Angel and raised an eyebrow, hinting that it was his turn to relieve himself of the heavy wedding dress. Slowly, Angel began to undo the clasp at the nape of neck, letting the expensive dress fall to the floor in a white heap, revealing his thin body, entirely nude except for a glitzy, iridescent sequined thong. Will whistled when he saw what Angel had on under the dress.  
  
Gazing passionately into each other's eyes, the two lovers, clad only in their undergarments, grasped onto each other as Angel fell onto the bed with Will on top of him. Their lips met, and the full effect of their vows hit them both: This would be the only person they would ever make love with again. The same passionate, lustful sparks that ignited each and every time they shared a kiss, flew around them.  
  
Grabbing aggressively at each other, the intensity increased as did their desire for one another. Passionate red heat developed within the bed, as their sweaty bodies clung to one another, yearning to satisfy their sexual hunger.  
  
Will, caressing Angel's body, craving contact with the creamy caramel skin against his own, began the act of true love making.  
  
"Baby," Angel breathed, "Don't stop."  
  
Just like the waves crashing on the shore, their two souls became one, erupting into a stream of all emotions that the past year had created. This night was the beginning of a life of passionate heat between the two lovers, and the start of something new, something unexpected. 


	25. Chapter 24: Dinner Would Be Nice

This chapter is freakin' pointless, but I had quite a ball writing it. I just wanted to do something cute and fun, instead of all the heavy emotional stuff. So here we are. never fear, though, there's a lot more emotional drama to come (. Enjoy, guys!  
  
Chapter 24: Dinner Would Be Nice  
  
"Married life is wonderful," Angel sighed, leaning back against Will and fiddling with the shiny silver wedding band around his finger.  
  
"Angel, darling, we've only been married for a month. I don't know if you should really be basking in married glory yet," Will responded, holding onto him tightly.  
  
"I know, but this has been the best month of my life. There's a lot to be said for a monogamous relationship. It's such a good feeling, knowing that you have someone to be with you forever," Angel said, snuggling even closer to Will.  
  
"It is a good feeling. You know what would make it even better, though?"  
  
"What?" Angel asked, panicked that he wasn't making Will as happy as Will as making him.  
  
"Dinner," he stated firmly, as Angel immediately relaxed and laughed off the nerves.  
  
"I agree!" he exclaimed, getting up off the couch and lending Will a hand to help him up. As soon as they were both standing, Angel got a brilliant idea. Holding around Will's waist, Angel looked up into his eyes. "Let's cook it ourselves."  
  
"Ang, you know as well as I do that you should never ever trust me to cook anything that isn't a peanut butter sandwich."  
  
Giggling, he continued, "I know, but how much fun would it be to cook it ourselves? It's something married couples are supposed to do, you know? Come on!" he pleaded, "It'll be great!"  
  
"Fine, but if we end up with inedible food, don't blame me," he said nonchalantly as he followed his lover into the kitchen.  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
"So," Angel began, as they stood in their tiny kitchen, "What do you wanna eat, babe?"  
  
"Anything, as long as I don't fuck it up!" Will exclaimed, holding onto Angel's hand.  
  
"Hmm, I don't know about you, but I am dying for some pasta right about now," he said, then began to search frantically around the kitchen. "Oh my god, I remember Queenie gave me this great recipe for pasta with a whole bunch of vegetables in it. I swear, it was the best meal I'd had in a long time, and it was so easy to make. Honey, it's flawless, I mean, even YOU could do this one!"  
  
"Hey, hey hey, enough with insulting my cooking skills."  
  
"Ooh!" he squealed and pulled out a creased pink paper, "Found it!"  
  
The two men stared at the paper, trying desperately to read Queenie's almost-illegible handwriting of the simple recipe.  
  
"Ang, has it dawned on you yet that we have none of this stuff in the house?" Will asked, practically.  
  
"Hmm, that's true. Well then, Food Emporium, here we come!" he exclaimed, holding Will's hand and dragging him out of the apartment.  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
Surprisingly, the Food Emporium was crowded on the summer night. It was awfully late, around 11:30, due to Angel's hours at the club. Will and Angel wandered aimlessly up and down the aisles, looking for the desired foods to fulfill the needs for the recipe.  
  
"So what do we need, exactly?" Will asked, as Angel searched intently through the various boxes, hoping to find what he was looking for.  
  
"A bag of spaghetti, a can of corn, 2 cans of tomato sauce, a can of mushrooms, a can of carrots, and some broccoli. Not too much, right?"  
  
"Uh, sure. well, we passed the canned foods aisle a while back, maybe we'd have more success there?" he said, as if he were talking to young child.  
  
Rolling his eyes Angel took Will's hand and back-tracked a few aisles, "What would I do without you?"  
  
"Wander aimlessly around a supermarket for a while?"  
  
"Shut up," Angel said, and kissed him.  
  
After a thorough walk-through down the canned goods aisle, Angel and Will were in search of a bag of spaghetti.  
  
"What about this?" Will asked, holding up a see-through bag of dry pasta with a generic "spaghetti" logo on the front, obviously the store brand.  
  
"Honey, the day I buy store-brand ANYTHING is the day hell freezes over," Angel insisted, taking the bag from Will and placing it back with its generic counterparts. "This is the brand I like," he stated, holding up a larger bag of similar-looking dry noodles with a fancy, script logo in French.  
  
"Angel, this is really expensive," Will said, nervously, examining the pricey food.  
  
"It's not too bad, and everything else is so cheap, we can splurge a little bit. Seriously, this is the best spaghetti I've ever had, nothing cooks as well as this does."  
  
"Fine, if you insist," Will gave in, nervously fiddling with his watch.  
  
"So we're ready to go then," Angel stated firmly, grabbing Will's hand and holding the shopping basket with the other.  
  
"Yup," Will replied, kissing his partner as they headed to the cashier to pay for the food.  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
"William Dumott, only you could screw up the preparation of canned foods," Angel sighed as he looked at the mess on the counter. More than half the carrots sat on the counter top, and about another quarter on the floor. The few that did make it into the bowl were mashed up beyond recognition.  
  
"I tried! It slipped, baby, I swear I didn't mean to," he insisted, pointing out the dent in the can that once held the carrots, now strewn all over the room.  
  
"What am I going to do with you?" he shook his head, taking the can out of Will's hand and throwing it into the sink. "And what in God's name are we going to do with the carrots?"  
  
"I'll clean them up."  
  
"No, baby, I'll do it," Angel said quietly, as he wrapped his arms around Will's neck and began to kiss him.  
  
The passion heated up while the water did the same. The lovers were rudely interrupted by the overflowing of the boiling water in the pot. As it bubbled over and sizzled onto the stove, they quickly broke away from each other, as Angel rapidly turned down the heat and wiped up the excess water around the pot.  
  
"Shit, we need to be more careful," Angel said as he wiped up the scalding liquid with a ragged dishtowel, "and stop getting distracted. There's plenty of time for that later." He winked, seductively, in Will's direction, carrying the cooked spaghetti into the sink.  
  
Smiling coyly, Will looked at Angel, "Yes, later." he trailed off.  
  
"This stupid canned tomato sauce is so sticky, I'm getting it all over everything!" Angel whined as he attempted to scrape the thick substance out of the can. In the process, it got all over his hands and the counter in front of him. The counter, however, was already covered with mashed carrots from Will's incident, so a sea of orange and red was beginning to form on the usually-white table top.  
  
"Who's screwing up the canned food now?" Will teased.  
  
"This stuff is a LOT harder to prepare than the carrots. You dump the carrots out of the can," he stated firmly, "It isn't that hard. This crap sticks to everything!"  
  
"Why don't you let me try it?"  
  
"I am NOT going to let this kitchen get any messier than it already is," he insisted.  
  
"Fine then," Will backed off, as Angel went back to wrestling with the tomato sauce.  
  
Out of nowhere, an orange clump hit Angel right on the side of his head.  
  
"WILL!" he yelled, trying to get the mashed carrots mixed with tomato sauce out of his hair.  
  
Will just smiled in satisfaction as his lover's plight.  
  
"Oh, I'll get you yet!" Angel threatened as he picked up a sizable clump of tomato/carrot mush and chucked it forcefully at his lover, landing it squarely in the middle of his face. Wiping the mess away, a competitive glare glimmered in his eyes as he reached down onto the floor and grabbed more slop and threw it harder at Angel this time, making a bright orange spot on his clean, white shirt.  
  
"William! This is my favorite shirt!" Angel whined, but fought back by grabbing a handful of spaghetti and hurling it in Will's direction. "Food fight!"  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
Carrots, spaghetti, tomato sauce, corn, and mushrooms blended together in the tiny kitchen to make a large, reddish brown mess of a dinner. Covered in the disgusting mush, Will and Angel sat on the floor of the kitchen, eating a plate of pasta with pesto sauce out of Styrofoam take- out containers from Spring Gardens.  
  
"So much for cooking dinner," Angel mumbled between bites.  
  
"Hey, didn't I tell you I couldn't cook?"  
  
"Well, yes. I mean, at least we had fun right?" Angel asked leaning his head against Will's shoulder.  
  
"Angel baby, I have never had so much fun in my whole life. I love you so much," he said, wrapping his arm possessively around Angel's waist.  
  
"I love you more than anything. And you look very sexy in tomato sauce mush, might I add," Angel giggled.  
  
The lovers sat together, holding one another for what seemed like forever. The smell of the now-rotting food that was supposed to be dinner eventually began to irritate them both, as they spent the wee hours of the morning scraping corn kernels off the walls. Just as the birds began to chirp, they climbed into bed and fell into a peaceful, deep sleep, their bodies entwined as one.  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
AUTHOR'S NOTE: Yeah, I know it sucks, but I figured Angel and Will needed to be cute and stupid together for once, so here we go ( I don't know about you, but I am really craving some pasta right now! 


	26. Chapter 25: Spring Cleaning and Pink Pai...

Yes, another stupid, pointless chapter. Can you tell I've had absolutely nothing to do lately? Hmm, yeah. Well, the end of this one does have a point, and it's a good segue into the next part of the story. Okay, don't flame me TOO bad, take pity on me, I'm bored. Um okay, enough rambling. I hope you guys enjoy this one. I promise something significant will happen soon.  
  
Chapter 25: Spring Cleaning and Pink Paint.  
  
"Spring cleaning time!" Angel called from the bathroom as he opened the bathroom door, emerging in a true springtime outfit. His blonde wig bounced on his shoulders, the white and blue checked dress falling dangerously above his knees, was accented by baby blue wedge heels. Even his makeup was light and spring-y, with glittery pink lips and various shades of blue and silver on his eyelids. Plucking a fresh daisy from the vase of flowers on his nightstand, Angel placed it between the false blonde strands.  
  
"Ang, you look nice," Will said, whistling at him, "What's the occasion?"  
  
"Spring cleaning, darling. We need to fix this house up," Angel insisted, wrinkling his nose as he looked at the tomato-sauce stained walls in the kitchen. "That food fight a couple of months ago was a lot of fun, but our kitchen is disgusting, and if there's one thing I can't stand it's -,"  
  
"A dirty house, yes, dear, I know. My living habits have become immaculately clean since I've been living with you. I'm aware of your utter dislike for dirt," he sighed and glanced around the kitchen. He had to admit that it was getting a bit gross, and the tomato sauce stains on the walls didn't exactly help. "What do you suggest we do?"  
  
"Get some paint from Queenie and paint the kitchen," he stated, as if there was no question as to what would be done.  
  
"This won't cost anything, will it?" Will asked nervously.  
  
"You have been so uptight about money lately, what's the deal?" Angel asked, slightly frustrated. "I hate it when you keep things from me. You get this little protective shell and you don't talk to me. I can't stand it. You can tell me anything, baby, you know that," he pleaded.  
  
"Come here," Will said, holding out his arms to embrace Angel. Obediently, he walked into Will's arms and held around his waist in a long embrace, "There's nothing wrong, I swear."  
  
"Are you sure? You know whatever it is, I'll be more than willing to help you out," Angel pried, hoping to get something out of his lover.  
  
"Yes, yes. I'm sure. You know I'd tell you if there was a problem, Angel, I hate keeping things from you, you know that," Will insisted, pulling back slightly from Angel, looking down into his vibrant amber eyes.  
  
"Okay. but, to answer your question, no, it won't cost anything. Queenie's got a lot of leftover paint from when she renovated backstage a few months ago," Angel said, still skeptical about Will hiding something.  
  
"What color?"  
  
"Pink!" Angel exclaimed, his eyes lighting up as he said it.  
  
"Pink?! Does our kitchen really have to be pink? I mean, I could understand purple, but pink?"  
  
"It'll be nice. And it's bright pink, you know, more magenta. Kinda like that pink dress I wore the first time I met you. It's a really nice color, and we'll make it look good, I promise."  
  
"What, with your impeccable sense of style and taste, I bet we'll be okay," Will said, holding Angel's hand.  
  
"So, let's get the paint and begin!" Angel exclaimed, excitedly.  
  
With that, the two lovers were off to the club to get the extra paint to repaint their dirty kitchen.  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
"I can't believe we're actually doing this," Will said, more to himself, as he and Angel walked back into the apartment. It was extremely warm outside for the spring afternoon, and both men were quite anxious to be back into their home, which provided a bit of relief from the beastly heat.  
  
"I am so excited, darling, we are going to have the most beautiful kitchen in this building. People are gonna come over and they will be like 'Oh my gawd, how did you get your kitchen like that?' and we'll be like 'We did it ourselves, you like?' and -,"  
  
"Angel, baby, you're rambling," Will smiled, putting his finger to Angel's lips.  
  
Kissing his finger, Angel smiled, "Sorry. I'm just excited, that's all, and I know it'll turn out great."  
  
"I know it will too," he said, quietly, holding Angel up against him. Even in the sweltering heat, the warmth of the drag queen's body still felt wonderful against his. Some passionate kissing and heavy groping began. It took Angel walking into the can of paint to break their embrace, making them realize that there was, in fact, work to be done.  
  
"Time to paint," Angel mumbled, stepping back from Will and selecting a large, wooden-handled paint brush from the tin that Queenie had given them.  
  
Selecting an equally large brush, Will popped the top off the can of paint, and both men stared blankly at the substance inside.  
  
"Baby, am I seeing things?" Will asked.  
  
"Honey, I know my colors very well, and this is not magenta. This is. it looks like salmon-colored. Kind of an orange pink," Angel pointed out. "I don't want a salmon kitchen," he whined, "I wanted magenta!!"  
  
"Calm down. Maybe the salmon will look nice," Will offered, hopefully.  
  
"Maybe," he sighed.  
  
"Angel, if there's one thing I know about you, it's that you can turn anything into something stylish. You have a knack for style and fashion unlike anyone I've ever seen."  
  
Blushing slightly, Angel had to smile, "I can't deny that I have a special instinct for fashion," he sighed again, "I guess it'll turn out okay. I mean, if we don't like it, we can always have another food fight and change the colors of the walls again."  
  
Will laughed in response, "That's true. So you just wanna paint the whole thing?"  
  
"Yup, top to bottom. Maybe I should get changed, though. I do not want to get anything on this dress, it's one of my all-time favorites," Angel said, then rushed off into their bedroom to put on something he didn't mind getting dirty.  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
Minutes later, Angel emerged from the bedroom in Lenny's old, faded basketball shirt with the holes and rips on the bottoms, and a pair of old, tattered sweatpants, also which used to belong to Lenny.  
  
Raising an eyebrow and holding out his arms for Angel to hug him, Will sighed, "No matter what you wear, you always look wonderful."  
  
"Baby," Angel giggled, hugging his lover, "You're making me blush."  
  
Staying in the hug for quite sometime, Will abruptly broke away. "We really need to do this."  
  
"I know, I know. Focus, Angel girl," he said to himself, placing his fingers on his temples and closing his eyes. His makeup was still fully applied, his eyelids sparkling under the dim lighting as he shut them.  
  
"Let's begin," Will said, taking the brush and stroking a big stripe of pinkish-orange paint onto the stained wall.  
  
The painting was going along well, until Will decided that the wall had more than enough paint. Angel, on the other hand, need some more. Smiling slyly, he dipped the brush into the paint, and wiped a large blob of the thick paint onto Angel's arm.  
  
"Eek! It's cold!" Angel yelped as the paint came in contact with his soft skin. "Why do you always have to start these things?" he questioned, wiping the excess paint from his brush onto the front of Will's shirt without hesitation.  
  
"I love this shirt!" He yelled, and then proceeded to fling more paint onto Angel, getting it in his hair, on his face, and all over the ripped, faded shirt.  
  
"Whoooaaaa," Angel said, closing his eyes and laying the paint brush down into the paint, "You have tampered with my makeup. It is payback time, honey!"  
  
With that, he leaped on top of Will, who failed to lose his balance, leaving Angel clinging to his back, attempting to wrestle him to the floor.  
  
"Hon, I love you, but there's no way you can wrestle me. I was a wrestler in high school, and I weigh quite a bit more than you do," Will stated calmly as Angel was frantically attempting to get both himself and his lover onto the floor. Will picked him up, swung him around his body, and threw the boy onto the floor, straddling him firmly. "Pinned."  
  
"Grrr," Angel grumbled trying to get Will off of him, with no avail. Giving up on wrestling Will, Angel yanked his lover's body on top of his, kissing his lips firmly. Pulling away and smiling he laughed, "This is way better than wrestling."  
  
"Indeed.," Will trailed off, kissing Angel again, engaging in yet another steamy make out session.  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
"God, I'm so tired," Angel said, yawning and stretching.  
  
Sneaking up behind him and grabbing him around the waist, Will kissed his neck. He giggled and held onto the strong arms wrapped around him. Closing his eyes, he breathed in deeply, smelling a mix of Will's cologne and the fresh paint that lingered on both of them after a day of hard labor. Between the make out sessions, they had actually managed to paint their entire kitchen with the sickeningly-bright salmon paint that Queenie had given them. The job would have probably gone a lot faster, had it not been for their strong sex drive, which seemed to increase every spring. Perhaps it was something in the air.  
  
"Go to bed, babe, you sound exhausted," Will said, picking up Angel and carrying him to the bed, letting him down lightly and tucking him in. "Goodnight, beautiful."  
  
"Will you go to sleep soon?" Angel asked, looking up at Will, who was now sitting on the edge of the bed, playing with Angel's black curly hair, wet from the shower he had just taken.  
  
"Yeah, soon. Don't wait up for me, though, I need to do some paperwork," he said, vaguely.  
  
"Okay. Night hon, I love you," Angel said, holding out his arms for one last hug and kiss.  
  
"Love you too," he said, holding him tightly and kissing him one more time.  
  
Shutting off the lights in the bathroom and the bedroom, Will closed the door behind him, leaving his lover in the dark, alone, with a worried expression on his face as he exited.  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
"Shit," he mumbled as he shuffled through the papers he had laid out on the kitchen table. "How are we going to do this?"  
  
Each and every time he punched the numbers he came up with the same, miniscule number. He had done the math at least twenty times, making sure that the final answer he kept getting was right, and that he wasn't just adding wrong. Running a hand through the blonde-streaked hair, Will closed his eyes and leaned back in the chair. He hadn't expected that owning the store would be this stressful. Not knowing what else to do, he picked up the telephone and dialed a long-distance call to Nantucket.  
  
"Bart?" he questioned, as the man on the other end answered after a few rings.  
  
"William? What's up, how's it going?" he asked with a cheerful tone to his voice. Will used to call Bart a lot more before he and Angel gotten together. Now, the two barely spoke. It had to have been at least six months since they had last spoken.  
  
"It's going alright, I mean, everything with Angel is great, but that's not really what I'm calling about," he said, nervously twisting the spiraling cord around his finger.  
  
"Is something wrong?" Bart asked, sensing the tension in his ex- boyfriend's voice.  
  
"Yeah, it's, uh. Oh hell, Bart, it's the store. We're barely making a profit anymore. I mean, Angel works at the club on some nights, and we're just not making enough to support ourselves. Is there anything you can do, I mean, maybe send more clothes or something?"  
  
"Jesus, William, when did this start?"  
  
"I don't know, it's been a steady decline, but it's always been enough for us, you know? And it isn't anymore, I mean, if we don't do something soon, Angel and I won't be able to live together because we won't be able to afford it." Will was on the verge of tears at this point. The thought of him and Angel having to split up was almost unbearable. Ever since the day he'd met Angel, picturing a life without the vivacious drag queen by his side was impossible.  
  
"I don't really know if there's anything I, or you, can do. I mean, if the profit's been decreasing steadily, it's not like a seasonal depression. It's obvious that the clothes aren't selling well in that area, and that's about the end of it. Keep the store open for another month, or so, and if there's still a steady decline in profits, I guess you're gonna have to close down," Bart replied. Will could hear the disappointment in his voice. He knew how much the clothing business mean to Bart, and how much he loved to design clothes.  
  
"I'll definitely keep you posted. I just hope we don't have to close it down, that would be such a shame."  
  
"It would be. But, on the bright side, the store is doing amazing here. I knew moving to Provincetown and opening up a store here was a good idea." At least the clothes were selling somewhere. "So, if you do need to close up shop, you can just send the extra clothes back here, and I'd be able to sell them."  
  
"I really hope it doesn't come to that.," Will trailed off.  
  
"Same here, but you need to think realistically. Unless you start making some serious money, it doesn't make sense to keep it open. It sounds like there's not a whole lot of hope. In the mean time, you and what's-his-name, Angel, is it, should find a new job, so you're prepared if it does have to close."  
  
"Yeah, will do. Thanks, Bart. I can always count on you. Just, do me a favor, though. Don't call here, let me call you. I don't want to tell Angel yet. He'll start to worry, and I don't this to be his problem," Will said, firmly.  
  
"Okay, but call me if you need anything. I know we've had a rocky relationship since we broke up, but I'm always here for you, William, you know that."  
  
"Thanks, buddy. I'll let you know what happens. Bye," he said, hanging up the phone before Bart could respond.  
  
He couldn't tell Angel. Angel didn't deserve this kind of stress.  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
See, I told you something important would happen!!! Anyway, review please, and I hope you liked it. There will definitely be more to come. 


	27. Chapter 26: The Beginning of the End

Chapter 26: The Beginning of the End  
  
"It just doesn't make sense to keep it open," Bart insisted, as Will sat and twisted the cord of the phone painfully tight around his finger.  
  
"I really have to close it up?" Will asked, hoping that there was some way the shop could stay open, even if it was only for a few more days.  
  
"Yeah, as soon as possible. If you think about it, the longer you keep it open, the more money you're gonna lose." Bart did have a point.  
  
"But today's our one year marriage anniversary. I can't close up the shop today," Will pleaded.  
  
"That is really tough. At least break the news to him today, and then maybe it'll be easier when you do have to close down. I hate for you to have to do this, but we're both losing money with the shop making as little as it does."  
  
"I guess I'll just have to do it then. Thanks for the support, Bart, I'm glad I have you," he said sincerely.  
  
"Anytime. Let me know how it all goes."  
  
"Will do," he replied and hung up the phone.  
  
Throwing his pencil down onto the desk in frustration, Will ran his hands through his hair and shut his eyes. "I need to do something special today for Angel, so it's not so bad when I break the news to him."  
  
Picking up the phone, once again, Will dialed in the number of a local florist, "Hi, I'd like five dozen roses delivered to 360 East 10th Street apartment 3 C. Yes, I'll pay when they get here. Thank you." Will didn't care how broke they were: he would make tonight special.  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
"Hey baby!" Angel called into the dark apartment as he walked in the door. He had just finished a grueling night at the club. The crowds had been more out of control tonight than they had ever been, and Angel was dead-tired from mingling with so many people for so long. Still done up in full-drag, his pointy stiletto heels made a clicking noise with every step he took.  
  
The still silence in the apartment gave Angel the chills, as he rubbed his hands together, his arms rubbing up against the rough sequined dress he was wearing.  
  
"Will, honey, are you there?" Angel called to the darkness, turning on a dim lamp in the pitch black living room/dining room/kitchen. The dim lighting revealed a trail of pink rose petals. Blushing, Angel's cheeks turned the color of the petals as he followed the trail back to the bedroom he shared with Will.  
  
More dim lighting, provided by candles, barely illuminated the bedroom. This morning, the room was a frightful mess, with clothes strewn all over the floor and various shoes, necklaces, and tubes of lipstick littered it as well. Now, the room was immaculate, completely spotless. The candles, placed strategically around the room, lit it up just enough for Angel to see the abundance of pink roses all around the room. Eyes widening, Angel glanced around, a huge smile forming on his red painted lips.  
  
"Hi, beautiful," the deep, sexy voice said to him from the bed.  
  
Jumping slightly, Angel turned around and saw his lover, leaning against the back of the bed, legs outstretched in front of him. Will held out his arms and beckoned for Angel to come in bed with him. Unbuckling his shoes, Angel yanked them off his feet and hopped into bed with Will. Immediately falling into the exact the right position, they kissed briefly and then Angel leaned up against Will as Will wrapped his arms around Angel, holding his waist.  
  
"My baby is twenty years old today," Will whispered to Angel as he held him. "God, I can't believe we've been together for two years."  
  
"I know. Will, honey, they've really been the best two years of my life. I love you so much, it's crazy," Angel laughed as he said it, placing his hand on top of Will's.  
  
"I love you too, baby, I'd do anything for you," he said. Nervously glancing away from Angel's black bob wig, Will sighed and began to speak again, "So there's something I need to talk to you about."  
  
Releasing himself from Will's embrace, Angel turned around and sat on the edge of the bed next to him, facing him and looking straight into his eyes. "You can tell me anything, you know that. What's bothering you?"  
  
He cracked his knuckles as his breathing quickened slightly. "I was on the phone with Bart today."  
  
Feeling a pang of jealousy shoot through him, Angel's eyes narrowed slightly, "What's going on?" he asked with a very serious tone to his voice.  
  
"Oh my. Jesus, Angel, no it's nothing like that. I'd never cheat on you, ever, baby, I swear it," Will insisted, holding his lover's hand, trying to reassure him. "We were talking about the shop."  
  
Instantly, the jealousy faded, as Angel remembered that Bart manufactured the clothes for Model Boy. "Oh, god, I forgot that he made the clothes. I'm sorry, I shouldn't have -,"  
  
Smiling slightly, Will responded, "No, it's okay. Don't worry about it. Anyway, we were calculating the profits and stuff, and. there's no other way to put this. we're not making any money."  
  
Concerned lines appeared on the made-up face as Angel tilted his head, slightly, in confusion. "I thought the store was doing well."  
  
"Was. It was doing well, but we're not making a profit anymore. I'm talking like we're making a couple of dollars, obviously not nearly enough to support both of us."  
  
Lines of worry appeared on Angel's forehead. "What are we gonna do?" he asked quietly.  
  
"We have to close it down. That's what I was talking to Bart about. We're only losing money if we keep it open. We've been having some money troubles for a few months, but I thought it was best just to wait it out and see if the store would start doing better, and it didn't, and." he trailed off, running a hand through his gelled, sun-streaked hair.  
  
"Why didn't you tell me sooner?"  
  
"I didn't want to burden you with the problem. I don't want you to be stressed out over anything, and I thought I'd be able to handle it. I don't know. I wish I had come to you sooner instead of having to ruin our anniversary like this. Jesus, Angel, I'm so sorry," Will said, feeling a single tear slip down his face.  
  
Angel had never seen Will even come close to crying before, and watching him so upset broke the drag queen's heart. "Honey," Angel said, sweetly, placing both hands on his face and wiping the tear away, "It's okay. And you didn't ruin our anniversary. The roses are beautiful, nothing could ruin our anniversary. It's just another day of you and me together, and I'm happy no matter what's going on. I'm happy as long as I'm with you. I totally understand why you didn't tell me, and I think it's sweet that you tried to handle it all on your own, but you know that I'm always here for you, and I always will be. Never feel like you shouldn't 'burden' me with your problems. It's not a burden, I want to help you."  
  
Smiling and placing his hands on the warm, coffee cream cheeks, Will smiled, "I love you so much. I can't even begin to."  
  
"Shh," Angel hushed him, placing a finger delicately on his lips, "I know, I know. I love you too."  
  
A sweet, loving kiss occurred between the two of them, with emotion so deep that it could be felt in the air that surrounded the lovers.  
  
"So we'll just close up tomorrow, officially," Will said, holding on tightly to his love.  
  
"Okay. Let's just, uh, enjoy the moment, shall we?" Angel asked, giggling as he climbed on top of Will, beginning a night of sweet love.  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
The early June sun shone down on the tiny, rundown building that would no longer be the residence of Model Boy. Will had called that morning and notified the landlord of the building that he would not be renting out the tiny space any more, and that he would be moving out. The ladder was left outside by the landlord, who seemed to be reasonably considerate for a landlord in New York City.  
  
As Angel held the bottom of the ladder to steady it, Will climbed up and removed the sign from the top of the store, which had been cheaply held on with some nails. Holding hands, the two men went into the store, ready to pack up the clothes that they had spent hours unpacking just two years ago. In the back of the store, there were several spare cardboard boxes, which Will brought out and set up in the middle of the floor.  
  
"Remember, Bart said if we want any clothes, we're welcome to them," Will reminded Angel.  
  
"Oh, okay. Well, I can never have too many clothes, right?" Angel said, smiling slightly. He was very upset that they had to close the shop, and was trying hard not to show Will how sad he really was.  
  
"Hey," Will said, looking at Angel and holding him, "We're gonna get through this."  
  
Obviously not a very good actor, Angel smiled at him, sadly, "I know we will, baby, but I'm just sad that we have to close it like this, you know? I mean, it's where we first met, and everything, and now we're just forced to pack it up and let it go."  
  
"I know, I'm upset about it too, but we'll find other work, and it's a step in the right direction, Ang, we'll be fine, I promise," he reassured.  
  
"Yeah, I guess you're right," he sighed, "Well, we should finish packing."  
  
"Alright. Just take whatever clothes you want and fold the rest up and put them in the boxes."  
  
The lovers sat in the shop the entire day, packing up various outfits into the cardboard boxes. Angel looked around the room, noticing that it looked remarkably like it did when he first came in here on his lunch break two years ago. The only difference now was that it was coming to a close instead of starting something new.  
  
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AUTHORS NOTE: Yeah, so some of it is disgustingly sappy. whatever, I was in the mood. Anyway, I'm going to be going away soon for 4 weeks, so that means no updates for quite a while, but I'm planning to stop at a good point before I leave you all for a month. When I get back, though, I'll attempt to update at least every other day. although, I must admit, I've really been enjoying this almost-daily updating thing. Okay, review and enjoy, guys! REVIEWS MAKE ME HAPPY =)! 


	28. Chapter 27: Desperate Times Call For Des...

Chapter 27: Desperate Times Call For Desperate Measures  
  
"I'm sorry, we're just not looking for any help right now. We're overstaffed as it is," the manager said to Will, trying to get him out of the store.  
  
"Sir, listen. I hate to beg and be a pain, but I've been looking for work for almost two months now, and I can't find a job anywhere. I'll work for minimum wage, whatever it takes, I need work really bad, sir, help me!" Will begged as he looked into the unforgiving eyes of the overweight manager of the drug store.  
  
"Look, kid, I told you, I'm sorry, but I can't help you. It's a tough time for anyone to find a job. Wish I could help ya, kid," he said, walking away from Will and disappearing into the "employees only" room behind the counter.  
  
Sighing in defeat for what felt like the millionth time in the past two months, Will walked quietly out of the store, bumping into someone on the way out. "Oh, I'm sorry, I -," he stopped speaking as he recognized the person he had collided with. "Chad?"  
  
"Yeah. William Dumott? Good lord, I haven't seen you in years, how ya been holding up?" Chad asked, holding out his hand for a shake.  
  
"I've been better." he trailed off, then continued, "Well, what are you doing here? I never expected to see one of my old football teammates in New York City!"  
  
"Yeah, I can't believe we ran into each other! You wanna go out and get some coffee, or something?" Chad asked, thrilled to have seen Will again.  
  
"I'd like to, but, god this is so embarrassing," he laughed nervously, "I'm broke. I don't have any money at all, I'm so -,"  
  
"My treat," he promised.  
  
Smiling for the first time that day, Will followed Chad down to the local coffee shop.  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
"So what have you been up to, man? I don't think I've seen you since graduation back in 89, and how, what is it, 95? 6 years? That's crazy!" Chad exclaimed, stirring his black coffee around.  
  
"Yeah, I can't believe it's been that long. I haven't been up to too much, but I'm married now," Will said nervously, cracking his knuckles repeatedly. He had never been out in high school; only his parents and Bart had known about his sexuality before he came to New York.  
  
"Congrats man, that's great. So who's the lucky lady? What's she like?"  
  
"I don't know how to tell you this, but it's not a lady. His name's Angel, he's a drag queen, and we've been together for two years. The marriage isn't legal, but we had a ceremony in central park a little over a year ago, and it was great," he spit out all in one breath, feeling slightly relieved that he revealed his sexuality, but nervous about what Chad would say.  
  
Smiling warmly, Chad responded, "That's cool, man. I had no idea you were gay, but it's cool that you're happy. I could never ever picture you with a drag queen though. What's he like?"  
  
"He's. god, he's everything I've ever wanted. He's the most beautiful thing I've ever seen, in and out of drag, and he's so sweet. The most selfless person I've met. I love him so much, it's crazy. I never thought I'd be able to be in a relationship like this with another man. I was so quiet about my sexuality in high school, nobody ever knew about it, and I figured it would always be that way, but Angel changed it all. He makes me want to be a better person." Nobody had ever asked Will about Angel before, and he loved being able to talk about his love the way he just had. It brought a warm, fuzzy feeling deep inside his heart.  
  
"That's cool. She, I mean, he sounds great," Chad answered, looking genuinely happy for his friend.  
  
"Yeah, he is. But I don't know how much longer we're gonna be able to stay together," Will admitted, returning his concentration to the cracking of his knuckles.  
  
Tilting his head slightly to the side, like Angel did when Will said something he didn't fully understand, Chad asked, "What do you mean?"  
  
Sighing and beginning the explanation, Will spoke. "So I owned this shop right near our apartment, and both of us were working there. But, a couple of months ago, business started getting really bad. We were barely making any profit. So, in order for us to still afford to live together and pay the rent and everything, we had to close it, and we both needed to find new jobs. Angel works at this drag club that his parents own, and he's working there full-time again, but he doesn't make enough money to support both of us. As it is, we've been going to the club every day to eat meals so we don't have to buy our own. I've been looking for a job for almost three months now, and I can't find anything. I even started looking before we lost the shop, figuring that by the time I needed to be bringing home the money, I'd be able to, but there's no work anywhere. I just don't know what to do."  
  
Chad looked sympathetically at his friend. Suddenly, an idea sparked in his eyes, and he smiled. "Let's get outta here, I've got something to show you."  
  
Puzzled, Will replied "Uh, sure," and followed Chad out of the coffee shop.  
  
Once they stepped outside into the blistering August heat, Chad pulled Will closer to him. "I'm gonna let you in on a little secret, but it's only because I can trust you, and I know you need a job."  
  
Still confused, Will listened intently to his friend as he whispered three words into his ear.  
  
"I'm a dealer."  
  
Shocked, Will gawked at him. "What- What do you mean?"  
  
Chad pulled Will into a deserted alley. "I mean I sell. I'm a distributor, and I've got quite a few people working for me. So here's what I'm gonna do for you, William. I'm gonna let you work for me. You sell my 'materials,' and I'll give you a percentage of the profits. Granted I can't give you millions, but you'd be surprised how well it pays, and it'll definitely cover those expenses for you and- What did you say his name was, Angel?" Will nodded. "Yes, you and Angel will be set. I don't offer my products to just anybody, William. I trust you, and I can see how bad you need the flow."  
  
Not even knowing how to respond, Will stared at him blankly for a few minutes, then finally spoke. "I can't believe you sell. I mean, I guess I'm grateful for the offer, but I don't know if I can do it. I mean, Angel and I are both so against those things."  
  
"Well, you don't have to use just because you sell. Trust me, if all my employees were users as well they wouldn't be making any money," Chad reassured him.  
  
"I guess. I don't know, I'm gonna have to think this over," Will said, nervously.  
  
"Take your time, but remember, time is money, William. Here's my card, call me if you need me, and maybe we'll work something out," Chad said, then walked nonchalantly out of the alley, leaving Will alone, staring at the simple white business card. "Chad Masters, sales manager," it said in bold, black writing.  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
Just like every night for the past two months, Angel trudged into the apartment well after midnight, still with makeup on his face, but not wearing drag. The bags under his eyes were enough to hold his whole drag wardrobe. Angel was getting tired a lot faster lately, due to the grueling demands of being a performer, which he had not been doing full-time for the past two years. Tonight, however, he was a bit upset. Usually, Will would show up at the club right around the time that Angel performed, and the two would eat dinner together and catch up on the events of the day, since it was usually the only time they got to spend together, but tonight, Will didn't show up. Hoping that he had a good reason for not being there, Angel walked into the bedroom to find Will sitting on the bed, facing the window and staring outside.  
  
"Honey," Angel said softly as he walked in.  
  
Turning around slowly, Will's face immediately brightened at the sight of his radiant lover. Standing up and holding out his arms for a hug, Will greeted Angel, "Hey baby. Sorry I wasn't there tonight, but I've got some good news."  
  
Scampering into his arms for a comforting embrace, Angel smiled. "What's the good news, honey? Did you find a job?" he asked hopefully.  
  
"I did. I've got to call some people back and work out what hours I'll be working, but it looks good. I'm really lucky to have found somewhere to work around here," Will answered.  
  
"Aw, I'm so happy for you! Where are you working?" he questioned enthusiastically.  
  
"Oh, I'm a salesman," he responded, praying that Angel wouldn't ask anymore questions.  
  
"Sweetie! That's wonderful! Gosh, I'm so glad you found work! I was getting really worried, because I'm not making that much at the club, and you know, Queenie said that if we ever really needed to we could go and stay there, but I told her that it wouldn't come to that, because I knew you'd find work and you finally did and-,"  
  
"Angel, baby, you're rambling," Will cut him off.  
  
Giggling, Angel blushed slightly. "Sorry. I have a tendency to do that when I get excited."  
  
"It's okay. It's cute," Will said, kissing him lightly on his glossy lips.  
  
"I hate to cut this short, but I'm so tired. I really should get some sleep, because nobody wants to see a tired, old drag queen sing 'It's Raining Men' with bags under her eyes!" Angel laughed.  
  
"Baby, you're beautiful no matter what. But if you're really tired, then go and get some sleep. I'll be in the kitchen, I have to finish up some paperwork for Bart," Will answered, hating the fact that he was lying to his Angel.  
  
"Okay. Goodnight Will. I love you," Angel said from inside his dresser, trying to fish out some decent pajamas to sleep in.  
  
"I love you too, Ang. I'll see you in the morning."  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
Will closed the door behind him as he exited the bedroom, wishing that he could run back in and spill everything to Angel. He wanted to tell him about Chad, and about how he didn't know what to do, and all he wanted was to make enough money for the two of them to live together in their apartment, instead of having to find some cheap one-room place to live. He had spent the rest of the day, after coffee with Chad, contemplating about Chad's offer. He wanted to find a legitimate job that he could tell Angel about, so that he wouldn't have to feel like he was constantly lying to his lover. At the same time, however, he knew that dealing would pay a decent amount of money, and, as long as he was careful, it would be a job that he would have for a while.  
  
Sighing for the millionth time that day, Will pulled the white business card out of the pockets of his faded khaki shorts and picked up the phone. Punching in the numbers, he waited until he heard a voice on the other end.  
  
"Who's this?" it asked rudely.  
  
"Chad? It's William," Will said into the phone, puzzled by the rough tone in his old friend's voice.  
  
"Oh, William. Have you come to a decision yet?"  
  
"Yeah. I think I'm gonna take you up on your offer," Will answered, defeated.  
  
"Wise choice, I could tell you were desperate for some flow," Chad answered.  
  
"Desperate times call for desperate measures," Will said, miserably, as he sighed and listened to Chad's voice, his thoughts wandering to a better place.  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
A/N: Not one of my better chapters, but I hope you liked it anyway. I told you that some important stuff was gonna happen soon! Sorry Angel made such a brief appearance in this chapter, I'll try to make him be there more in the chapters to come. To all of you who have reviewed thus far, and are reading my story now: THANK YOU THANK YOU THANK YOU!!!! It means a lot to me =) 


	29. Chapter 28: Shot like a bullet

Chapter 28: Shot Like a Bullet  
  
October 15th, 1995:  
  
I hate it. I hate it so much. I'm sitting here, watching him sleep peacefully, and all I want to do is shake him, wake him, see those beautiful amber-hazel eyes gazing at me, and tell him everything. I can't lie to him, I just can't. It needs to stop. And I need to stop writing in this thing. All I've been doing since I started to sell was write about how much I hate it in this dumb journal. That was almost three months ago. I can't believe how fast time goes by when you're miserable. I just pray that my Angel never reads this. God, I can't even explain how much I love him. It's like I'm doing this because I know that there's no other way. If I wasn't bringing the flow that I do now, we'd probably be living with Queenie, if we were lucky, or in some cheap-shit one room dump with rats and roaches, and Angel doesn't deserve any of that. Me, on the other hand, I'm not so sure about anymore.  
  
Just today, I was selling to one of the regulars, and he looked so eager to buy from me. It's like you could see the addiction in his eyes. His entire life had boiled down to whatever pathetic white powder and needles I could supply him with. I just hope that I never get like that. Being a junkie is unimaginable: how can somebody be so dependent on such a stupid thing? I don't get it, but perhaps it's better if I never do. I'll never have to know the pain, I'll only see it in the customers.  
  
Will closed the book gently, setting it down underneath the bed so that Angel would never find it. Will was paranoid enough about Angel finding the abundance of heroin in his sock drawer, he didn't need to worry about Angel reading the journal that contained his innermost thoughts as well. The most difficult thing for him to do was to lie to Angel. Each and every time he stuffed that journal underneath the bed, he felt a pang of guilt and sadness, knowing that he was lying to the love of his life. That hurt him like nothing else.  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
All the dealers gathered in Chad's dingy, disgusting one-room apartment after a full afternoon of selling. Will cringed as he looked around to see a large, brown cockroach scamper by his foot. "If I wasn't doing this, this is where I'd be," he thought to himself, as he closed his eyes briefly and followed his fellow dealers to the center of the room, where they all sat in a large circle and pooled their money, sharing stories about their day.  
  
"And this one dude, man, I have never seen some guy so desperate in my life. Some yuppie bitch this guy was. He had on some nice, expensive watch, a tailored suit, and a briefcase, but his eyes were fuckin' bugging out of his head, he needed a fix so bad. The withdrawal was killing him, and he barely had any money on him!" Chris exclaimed, as the rest of the dealers snickered at his tale.  
  
"So you didn't just give it to him for cheap, did you?" Chad questioned, with fierce urgency in his voice.  
  
"Chad, brother, you should know me better than that," Chris scolded, as he reached into his pocket and pulled out a shiny, gold rolex watch.  
  
"That's not real," Donnie insisted, as he examined the shiny gold and platinum of the luxurious watch.  
  
Snatching it out of Donnie's grip, Chad examined it, inspecting the back. "Sure is real," he replied, "It's a beauty, too. I think this one's worth about 1400. Nice work, Chris. You've done the business proud."  
  
The rest of the dealers looked on in awe at Chris's watch, as Chad continued, "Snaps for Chris," he said (Author's Note: Has anyone seen Legally Blonde 2? The Snap Cup??? Yesterday on the Today Show, they did "snaps" too! Umm, okay, I'll go on with story now, I swear).  
  
Beaming and smiling slyly, Chris nodded and took back the watch, inspecting his finding.  
  
"What do you say we celebrate?" Chad asked glancing around at the other sellers and raising an eyebrow at them.  
  
"I second that. Man, I'm not as bad as that rich bastard, but I could sure use a fix," Chris admitted, rolling up his sleeve to reveal several scars from past injections.  
  
"Wait a minute," Will said, shocked, "You're all junkies?"  
  
"Not junkies, we just do it in moderation on occasion," Donnie explained, as he rolled up his sleeve to reveal scars identical to Chris's.  
  
"Chad, you told me none of them used," Will said in a hushed voice, looking over at the dealer.  
  
"They don't use frequently. Just once in a while to… you know… celebrate a good day, or something," Chad explained, as he took out the pure, white powder and began to prepare a needle for himself and the other dealers to share.  
  
"I don't think I should do this," Will said, as he began to get up. Feeling a strong hand on his knee, he sat back down, following the hand to his left up to the man's face.  
  
"I think you should," Chad said, as he injected himself with the needle, then passed it around to his colleagues to use.  
  
Looking around nervously, Will was unsure of what to do. He and Angel had always been against drugs and drinking. Hell, Angel was only 20 years old, he wasn't even legal drinking age. Will knew that the heroin would numb the weight of depression inside his chest, but he also knew that nothing good could come from the evil white powder. "I'm not sharing the needles," Will insisted, giving into the temptation to discover what all the fuss was over the drug.  
  
"That's fine," Chad said, setting up a separate needle for Will and handing it to him.  
  
Injection it slowly into his veins, he immediately began to feel the surging rush of the substance ripping through his previously-pure body. The effect was almost immediate, as Will could literally feel the weight on his chest evaporating, as if the heroin had gone straight to his heart and devoured the sadness, bit by bit. The drug shot like a bullet through his veins, slowly numbing each depressing thought in his mind. Feeling his head spinning, he was dizzy with numbness, as a goofy smile formed on his face.  
  
"He likes it, boys," Chad told the other men, who all looked eerily sober next to the dizzy Will. "Welcome to the gang, William."  
  
"Thank you, men. I'm going home to my lovely wife now, I'll check ya later," he mumbled, stumbling on his way out the door.  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
Will didn't even realize how late it was getting until he banged into the door due to the blackness of the outside. Giggling, he opened the front door to the apartment building and headed upstairs to meet Angel.  
  
Opening the door, Will squinted from the change in light, as his apartment was brightly illuminated. He was welcome by a scantily-clad Angel, cooking some green beans over the stove. Since Will had begun making money, the couple had been able to afford food for the kitchen, instead of having to eat all their meals at the club.  
  
Closing the door rather loudly behind him, Will winced at the noise and reminded his clouded mind that he had to act sane in front of Angel. The last thing he wanted was for Angel to discover his habits.  
  
"Hey babe," Will greeted, alarmed slightly by the normal-sounding deepness and tone to his voice.  
  
"Hi honey. How was work?" Angel asked, turning around and facing Will. Even with his mind polluted by the drugs, Will still found himself a bit short of breath at the sight of his lover. He was wearing a pair of cut-off denim shorts and a tiny tank top that exposed quite a bit of his stomach. He wasn't wearing a wig, as he hadn't been lately when they were home, and was wearing minimal makeup, as opposed to the full drag makeup he usually wore.  
  
"Good. You look beautiful," Will complimented, still shocked that he sounded so… normal.  
  
Blushing slightly, Angel walked towards him and ran a hand down his chest, "Thank you. You look good, too. Did something happen at work today?"  
  
"I just had a, um, a very good day," Will answered, holding Angel in his arms. Looking down at his lover, Will realized how happy he was: His problems were vanishing in front of him, and all he was thinking about was Angel. He felt weightless, and his life felt simple, and fun, for the first time in a while. Heroin was bad for him, but he didn't understand how something so bad could make him feel so wonderful.  
  
"Well, that's good, baby," Angel said, as a "ding" startled them both. "Ooh!" he squealed, "My green beans are ready! I've had a craving all day!" he exclaimed and went to go drain the water from the pot that held the green beans.  
  
Just as Angel sat down to eat his dinner, Will stood next to him and tapped him on the shoulder. Smiling, Angel asked him, "What can I do for you?"  
  
"Let's make love!" Will suggested, his ocean-blue eyes bugging out of his head with happiness, excitement, and something that Angel couldn't quite put his finger on.  
  
Giggling, Angel stood up, leaving his green beans to get cold. Pulling seductively on Will's shirt Angel said, softly, "I could use some love. I told you I was hungry."  
  
"Let's get started," he said quietly, picking Angel up and hoisting him over his shoulder.  
  
Angel shrieked as he left the ground. "Will! Put me down!"  
  
Scampering back to the bedroom, Will plopped Angel down on the bed and climbed on top of him and began kissing him feverishly. A night of sweet love-making was definitely in order.  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
Morning came far too quickly as Angel's alarm buzzed and rudely awakened him from a deep sleep. Stretching and rolling over, he looked at Will and smiled. Pushing the blanket away from his body, he got up and noticed that Will's arm was left exposed. Just as Angel was about to pull the blanket back over him and cover Will, he noticed a mark on his lover's arm. Examining it closer, the angry red dot was right in the center of a large, blue vein on his forearm. Gaping at the red mark, Angel wanted to touch it, but was afraid of awakening his lover. Suddenly, everything clicked together. Will wasn't a salesman, he was a dealer; a dealer who made use of his own "materials." Shocked, Angel got up quietly and walked over to the drawers that he and Will shared. Opening them one by one, Angel was afraid of what he would find. Reaching the bottom drawer, Will's sock drawer, he pulled it open and saw quite a large stash of white powder in small, plastic bags.  
  
"No," he whispered, trying to convince himself that this was all an illusion. "No, no, he would have told me, this can't be-," he was interrupted by Will turning over in bed.  
  
Shutting the drawer as quickly and quietly as possible, Angel grabbed some clothes to put on, and rushed into the bathroom. As tears flowed freely down his cheeks, he looked into the mirror, terrified of what the future would hold for the couple. He had never imagined that he would be married to a junkie. He knew only one thing, however: He could never tell Queenie.  
  
Packing up and leaving quietly for work, Angel wrapped his favorite coat, the white faux-fur one, tightly around his body and walked to the club, tears stinging his eyes.  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
A/N: Yes, my loyal readers/reviewers, this is the last chapter I'll be posting before I leave, unless I can miraculously finish the next few up. They all need to be posted at once, but I can't tell you why =P. I really hope you liked this one. Next update should be in about a month. I hope you'll still be interested. Once again, feel free to review, because I do quite like the feedback! 


	30. Chapter 29: The Pain Will Ease

Chapter 29: The Pain Will Ease  
  
December 20th, 1995  
  
I'm not sad anymore. Well, when I'm high, I'm not sad. I know Chad keeps saying that I should be careful, and only do it in moderation, but I can't help it. The shit makes me feel better. When I'm high, I don't have to think about what I'm doing, the fact that I'm still lying to Angel, or the fact that I'm doing something that I'm so against. Speaking of Angel, I feel like I've been taking out all my anger on him. When I don't have a fix for a while, I get kinda mad, and I end up yelling at him. It's not like I mean to do it, and I love Angel more than anything. If anything, he's been helping me get through it all, and I'm so grateful to have him with me. He doesn't know about the selling yet, although I think he's beginning to suspect something. I just hope that, if he does find out, he realizes that I'm not selling for the sake of being a dealer; I'm selling for our sake. I need to make money so we can stay together and live with each other. Besides, I've always been against drugs. But, then again, I never knew how good they could really make you feel. I'm not hooked, though. Really, I'm not. Because if I was hooked, I'd be shaking by now. I mean, my last fix was an hour ago, and I feel fine. I can go without it, but I like the way it makes me feel. Speaking of liking the way it makes me feel, I'm going to have a little more. Just a little.  
  
Will shut his book and stumbled over to his sock drawer, taking out a little bag of white powder. He realized that this was the last bag he had in the drawer, and he was puzzled as to where the rest of it went, not remembering completely what he did with it. Setting up the needle and jamming it into his arm, his eyes rolled to the back of his head as his body immediately relaxed. The drug seeped into his veins as he lied down on the bed.  
  
It didn't matter that, in a few hours, he'd be craving the drug badly, and he'd have no way of satisfying himself.  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
"And when you call my name, it's like a little prayer," Angel sang softly into the microphone. Lately, he'd been enjoying performing at the club more and more, since Will had begun to act strangely. Angel knew it was the heroin that was making his lover act so differently, but Will still had not told Angel himself. The couple had always prided themselves in having a completely honest and open relationship, and the honesty had not been present lately.  
  
Besides not being honest, Will had been downright mean to Angel. He seemed angry at times, and whenever Angel tried to make him feel better, he'd scream at him, and he even pushed him once.  
  
The stress had been building up on Angel's shoulders, and he couldn't stand the fact that he was keeping something from Will. Only fear held Angel back from telling his lover that he knew his secret.  
  
Before he knew it, the song had ended and Angel had stepped off the stage, hearing the audience's cheers as he left.  
  
"Angel, baby!" Queenie called out to him, approached him, and hugged him. The hug felt good and loving; a warmth that he hadn't felt with Will since he started selling. "You were wonderful!"  
  
"Thanks, honey. I really love that song. I was getting so tired of 'It's Raining Men,' and 'Mamma Mia,' all the time," Angel told her, and giggled. Being around Queenie and being able to genuinely smile and laugh was such a good feeling. Angel didn't want to go home.  
  
"Well, it's a great new song. You were perfect," Queenie smiled and held his hand. "Anyway, I need to go and mingle. Feel free to stay for while." She kissed him lightly on the cheek as she left.  
  
Walking back to his dressing room, his pointy stiletto heels clicking loudly on the hard floor, Angel shut the door behind him. He began to get out of the zebra-striped mini dress he was wearing, and change into something a bit more comfortable. He decided on his all-time favorites outfit: the glittery jeans with the black "X" shirt over a white long- sleeve fishnet shirt. The jeans and t-shirt were the first things he bought at Model Boy, the first day he had met Will. He removed the wig he was wearing, and immediately brushed his closely-cut black hair. Rubbing gel all over it until he was satisfied, Angel then began to remove his makeup. Most of the time, he really loved dressing in drag and feeling beautiful, but he hadn't had the energy lately. He left almost his entire drag wardrobe, as well as a couple of his "out-of-drag" outfits in his dressing room at the club. He preferred getting ready in the dressing room anyway; the lighting was much better.  
  
After taking off the heavy layers of makeup, Angel reapplied light foundation, some eyeliner, and a coat of sheer pink lip gloss and he was ready to leave.  
  
Usually, Will would wait for him outside the dressing room at night, sometimes holding flowers or a small gift for his lover. Lately, however, Will hadn't even been coming to the shows. Angel straightened out his clothes, checking his hair one last time, and opened the door, praying that Will would be waiting for him, knowing full well that only the dingy hallway lighting and stale air would greet him.  
  
The emptiness he found when he opened the door brought him to tears.  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
Angel had been crying so long and so hard that he didn't even hear the door close when Fred came in.  
  
"I knew there was something wrong," the deep base voice said, startling Angel.  
  
Sniffing and wiping his tears in such a way that his eyeliner would still be neat, Angel responded, "Gee, whatever gave you that idea?" and gave him a tired, sad smile.  
  
"I know you and I haven't had many heart to heart chats, seeing as how Queenie's usually the girl for that, but do you want to tell me what's wrong?"  
  
Angel sighed. Fred was right: The two of them hadn't been terribly close the past few years since they'd met. Of course, Angel considered Fred his father, but he never really came to him with his problems. That was usually Queenie's area of expertise. "I'll tell you if you can promise me something."  
  
"Yeah, anything."  
  
"Don't tell Queenie," Angel stated in a small, but firm voice.  
  
Fred looked rather shocked, before he sat down on the couch next to the young boy and held him tightly as the crying began again. Attempting to comfort him, Fred rubbed his shoulders. "I promise. This must be serious."  
  
Angel took a deep breath and composed himself once again. "It's just," he paused, "I know exactly what she'd say and the last thing I need is another dumb lecture. I'm just stuck in such a bad position, and I don't even know who to turn to or what to do."  
  
"I'm here for you, Ang. Just take your time, I'll wait till you're ready," Fred told him in a calm, soothing voice.  
  
Sighing again, Angel began, "It's Will. I know you, and Queenie especially, have never been too thrilled with him, although I don't know why. Anyway, I love him a lot, right? I mean, we're married. I'm spending the rest of my life with him, and all. But -," his voice broke as tears were about to spill over his eyes again. "I don't know if I can anymore."  
  
Looking concerned and slightly angered, Fred looked Angel straight in his eyes. "What is he doing to you?" he asked firmly.  
  
Almost afraid of what Fred's reaction would be, Angel considered lying to him, but shook the thought away. He could not back down now. "I know something I'm not supposed to know. So he's been acting really -," he paused, pondering how to phrase the problem, "Really nasty. And I know that the reason why he's doing this is because of this thing that I shouldn't know. So I keep forgiving him. And he keeps apologizing, but -."  
  
"Ang," Fred cut him off and continued, "You're gonna have to be more specific than that. I can't help you unless I know what's really going on."  
  
"You can't judge him then, okay? I know you don't think too highly of him anyway, but don't look down on him," Angel pleaded with him, his eyes like big amber saucers.  
  
"I won't judge him. It's not like I hate the boy or anything."  
  
"Okay," he sighed, slightly relieved, "Will deals heroin. And he uses it, too." His voice was so small and weak. He looked like a scared little boy as he hugged his knees to his chest. Breaking eye contact with Fred, he appeared almost ashamed of his lover's habits.  
  
"Oh my god," Fred mumbled, almost inaudibly.  
  
"I know! I know it's awful but I also know why he's doing it. He's not what you and Queenie think, he's such a good person, and, up until about two months ago, I know he would have given me the moon if it was possible. We had the most wonderful, open, honest relationship. We always prided ourselves in that, and now it's gone down the fucking crapper!" he yelled, crying and attempting to defend Will.  
  
Fred just looked on, nodding.  
  
"Before he started selling, we were so tight on money. Do you remember when we would be at the club all the time? And we'd eat every meal here?" Fred nodded again. "We couldn't afford to eat anywhere that cost money. I told Queenie about our financial situation, and she told us we were always welcome here, and if things ever got really bad, we could stay with her and you. So I casually mentioned it to Will once, just to let him know that we did have options, you know? But he flipped out. He kept saying stuff about how he doesn't want to live with people who hate him, and that we'd never be that desperate. It was so weird, I've never seen him like that. He's always so laid back and easy going, and he never flips out about anything. So he went on this wild job search, and every day he would come back unsuccessful, and it was horrible. He looked so defeated and weak. Like he was sick, or something. But he kept telling me that he would find a job, even if it took years, because he wanted us to live together forever. So when he finally got the sales job, he seemed really indifferent about it, which was so strange. He'd been searching for months, and he finally found what sounded like a really good job. I was more excited than he was. Looking back on it, though, the expression on his face when he told me what he was doing is burned in my mind. He looked like he was in pain," Angel paused and sighed, looking to Fred for support.  
  
"I don't doubt that he loves you. I just wish that it didn't have to come down to what it did, you know?"  
  
"Yeah, me too," he answered softly. Clearing his throat, Angel continued, "I remember the first day I found out what he was doing. That night, he had been acting crazy. I mean, he came home and he had this wild fire in his eyes. It was like nothing I'd ever seen. It's almost like Will wasn't Will, you know? We made love that night, and it was like I wasn't with him, I was with someone else. It almost felt like when I was, uh, you know, getting around, and I wasn't making love, just having sex. I woke up the next morning, and I saw a red dot on his arm. I don't even know how I put two and two together, but I ran over to his drawers and I started to open them, one by one, and I got to the bottom drawer, the sock drawer," he paused and smiled slightly, "It always seems like all the bad stuff is in the sock drawer."  
  
Laughing along with Angel, Fred patted him on the back. "It does, doesn't it?"  
  
As the smile on his face faded, Angel continued the story, "So I found it; a huge fucking load of it. As soon as I opened the drawer, I knew exactly what I would find, but I was praying I wouldn't see it. And when I did, I shut the drawer and opened it again. Maybe I had just imagined it, and it wouldn't be there the second time, but it was. Jesus, I didn't even know how to react to it. So I put on my coat and left."  
  
"I can't even imagine." Fred trailed off.  
  
"So I haven't told him yet that I know, but ever since that morning, nothing's been the same. I just -," Angel paused as his voice broke. Breathing deeply and regaining his composure, he continued, "I just don't know what to do."  
  
"What do you mean it hasn't been the same? What's been going on?" Fred asked with concern, "What is he doing to you?"  
  
"He never has as much as heroin as he needs, you know. I can tell when he really needs a fix. I've seen my fair share of junkies. Most of them just get jittery and desperate for anything to fix their cravings. He gets mad, though. Like really, really angry. And he kinda takes it out on me. But I don't blame him. It's my fault that he had to get the damn job in the first place, and if it weren't for me, he probably would have never even shot up in the first place."  
  
"Whoa," Fred interrupted, lacing both his hands firmly on Angel's bony shoulders, "None of this is your fault and I never want to hear you say that again. Don't blame yourself for any of this, because it is ultimately his choice. He chose to shoot up the first time and he should not be taking any anger out on you." His voice was intense and demanding, as if he were ordering Angel to not blame himself.  
  
"I just can't help feeling that I had some role to play in this," he sighed, "but you're right: It's not my fault. But sometimes, he'll scream at me, and he'll yell these things at me. Like he'll say that I'm stupid and I'm useless. I tried to help him wash the dishes one night, because he hands were shaking like mad, and he threw the pot across the room when I asked him if he wanted a hand. He told me I was useless and I couldn't fucking do anything worthwhile, and that me trying to help was just a waste of time. Five minutes later, he came into the bedroom where I was sitting and crying, and he held me. He was crying as well. He told me how sorry he was, and that work was stressing him out, and he didn't mean to take it out on me. He kept saying how I was too good for him, and that he loved me more than anything. All I did was listen. But every night's like that. Him screaming at me, even pushing me a couple times, and then an apology a few minutes later. And I take him back every time!" Angel was yelling now, which was very uncharacteristic. He was usually calm, sweet, and easy going. The frustrated drag queen sitting next to Fred seemed nothing like Angel at all.  
  
"It'll be okay. I think you need to work things out with him. Like when he apologizes, tell him that he made you upset, and that if he does it again, you'll leave for the night, or something. It sounds like he's in a lot of pain, too, and as much as I don't like him and don't want to sympathize with him, you kinda have to. At the same times, though, you need to stand your ground," Fred stated firmly as he stared intently into Angel's eyes. "He is being abusive. You're lucky that he doesn't hit you. Be smart, Angel. I love you and I don't want anything bad to happen to you. You don't' deserve it."  
  
Smiling as the tension in his expression melted away, Angel turned to Fred, "Thank you. I mean that, thanks for everything. You've always been here for me, and it means more than you know. I love you."  
  
"I love you, too, Ang," Fred said, as both men embraced in a loving hug.  
  
Looking at his watch, Fred broke away from Angel slowly. "Wow, it's really late. I'm surprised Queenie hasn't sent out the search party for me yet."  
  
"Okay, I should get going, too. Thanks again."  
  
"Anytime. Really, if you ever need to talk or anything, I'm here for you, and I always will be," Fred promised, as he exited the dressing room, leaving Angel alone.  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
The apartment was dark when Angel walked in. Looking at the glowing digital clock on the counter, he blinked twice to make sure he was reading it correctly. "3:32," it flashed in neon green. He hadn't even realized how long he and Fred had been talking. Praying that he wouldn't wake Will up, he tiptoed quietly into the bedroom, welcomed by the bluish moonlight streaming in through the open window.  
  
A shadow coming from the bathroom startled Angel as he jumped back slightly, knocking into the dresser. Will emerged, his sun-streaked hair still damp from the shower. He was stumbling a little, his hands visibly shaking and the ocean-blue eyes wide open.  
  
"Look what the cat dragged in," he hissed at Angel.  
  
"I-I'm sorry I'm late, but -,"  
  
"You look like shit. Where the fuck were you?" he snapped. As he got closer, Angel saw the violent fire that illuminated his eyes.  
  
"I stayed late at the club. I needed to talk to Fred about something and -," Angel stammered nervously, backing away from Will.  
  
"Lame-ass excuse. Why don't you tell me what you were really doing tonight, instead?"  
  
"I'm telling you the truth! Why would I lie to you?"  
  
"Because you're a whore, and you're sleeping with all those sluts at the club. Who were you with tonight, Angel?" He screamed in his face, only inches away from coming in contact with him.  
  
"William! My god, I would never - why would you even think that?" Angel questioned, astonished.  
  
"Just fucking tell me!" refusing to believe his young lover, Will screamed even louder than before, gripping tightly onto Angel's shoulders.  
  
"Nobody! I would never cheat on you!" Angel shrieked, as the grip on his shoulders intensified.  
  
'Why would I believe you?" Will questioned, his voice quieting to a bit more bearable volume. "You come home late, mumbling some bullshit excuse about talking to Fred, which obviously isn't true, because the whole time I've known you, you have NEVER had a one-on-one conversation with Fred. You're full of shit, Angel. You fucking come home late every night! What else would you be doing?" the volume increased once again, as Will smacked Angel across the face, setting him off-balance as he fell to the floor.  
  
The hurt and fear in his youthful eyes was overwhelming as he placed his hand on the red handprint Will had just made.  
  
"You deserved that," Will snapped, as he began to lower himself to the floor as well.  
  
"Don't touch me!" Angel yelped as he felt his skinny body being pressed against the hard wood floor.  
  
Without saying anything, Will pulled his fist back and punched Angel right next to his eye, on his left temple.  
  
Letting out a cry, Angel winced in pain as he pushed Will off of him with a surprising amount of force. Will was barely off Angel when Angel stood up, pulling his legs out from underneath him, and ran out of the apartment, slamming the door behind him.  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
The blood trickling from his temple had begun to drip down the side of his face, making a path that would be repeated for many nights to come. He ran all the way to the club. Walking in, he was greeted by Fred, sweeping the tile behind the bar. As the door shut, Fred looked up to see who could possibly be coming in at this hour. "We're closed," he said, then recognized the young boy who had entered. "Angel?"  
  
Crying, Angel nodded as he walked towards the older man.  
  
Noticing the blood at his temple, and his red cheeks, Fred got a puzzled and concerned expression on his face. "Oh my god did he -."  
  
"Don't tell Queenie," Angel said, weakly, as he collapsed onto Fred, leaning all of his weight onto his chest.  
  
"I won't, I won't," Fred reassured him, as he held his shaking body, like he would every night when Angel fled the apartment after Will got violent. It would be this way until Valentine's Day.  
  
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A/N: Thanks for being so patient with me ( I know I said I'd be gone for a month, but it turns out that I'm able to come home on my days off (I'm working at an overnight camp) so I'm able to update my story! Yay! I probably won't be updating for another 2 weeks, because my schedule gets a lot more demanding this session, but I'll try my best to have chapter 30 up for y'all asap! Just don't hate Will TOO much right now, because I promise you he's not that bad. That's why I didn't want to post this chapter by itself. I don't want everyone holding a grudge against Will. Anyway, please R/R, and I hope you guys liked this one. I'm always open to suggestions and such, so email me if you like. 


	31. Chapter 30: I Can't Change You

Chapter 30: I Can't Change You  
  
Angel winced slightly as the alcohol came in contact with his broken skin. This time, it was his left eye instead of the right one. His right eye had almost healed.  
  
"Listen, Angel," Fred began as he continued to clean the drag queen's wound.  
  
"It's feeling better already," Angel said, cutting him off as he snatched the alcohol-soaked cotton ball out of Fred's hand.  
  
"You can't keep doing this. You come here practically every night with new cuts and bruises. How much longer are you gonna put up with this?"  
  
Angel looked away from him, holding the cotton to his skin. "I don't know," he whispered. "I love him. No matter how much stupid shit he does, I still love him and that's the way it is. He apologizes every time, and I can tell he really means it."  
  
"What do you mean, 'he means it'? Let me tell you, if he does, he's got a really funny way of showing it. You need to stop this. How much longer is it gonna be before he does something really serious, instead of just a couple cuts and bruises, huh? You can't just keep running here and depending on me to cover up the wounds. There's a serious problem going on, Ang, and something needs to be done about it."  
  
"I know it's bad. I'm not stupid, Fred. And I'm trying to do something about it. Wait -," Angel paused, his eyes widening slightly, "You didn't tell Queenie, did you?"  
  
Fred looked away from him in shame. "I had to. She's been worried about you too, and I couldn't lie to her forever. It's for your own good, anyway."  
  
"I trusted you," he said softly, his amber eyes telling a story of betrayal.  
  
"I know, and I respect the fact that you did, but this is not the kind of thing I can keep to myself. You're getting hurt, Ang, and you're in trouble. Neither of us want that, and telling Queenie was in your best interest!"  
  
"Whatever, I'd better go," he said quickly, wrapping the white faux- fur jacket around his battered body, "It's Valentine's day anyway, and I bet Will has something special planned for us."  
  
"Angel, wait, I -,"  
  
"I'll call you if I need anything," he snapped as he shut the door in an angry rage behind him.  
  
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Counting up his money after a hard day of selling, Will stuffed the bills into his pocket and removed a needle, already set for use. Jabbing it into his veins, his tense, aching body immediately relaxed as the drug began to seep into his blood stream. Lately, he'd been using more and more heroin, meaning that he was buying more and more from Chad at the end of the day. This also made it so that he was going home with less and less money to support himself and Angel. He'd been stashing a lot of extra powder in his drawers at home, for when he was dying for a fix.  
  
"William, I think we need to have a chat," Chad began, as he counted the money Will had given him, giving a portion of it, Will's profit, back to him.  
  
Still buzzing from the fix, but craving more drugs at the same time, Will looked at Chad and agreed. "Sure, what about?"  
  
"I have to tell you, William, I'm a bit concerned. You seem to be shooting up an awful lot. I know you like it and all. I mean, all of us do once in a while, but -,"  
  
"I'm fine," Will insisted, interrupting him.  
  
"Okay, calm down," he said, giving Will a pathetic look of sympathy. "All I'm saying is that you've been going home with less and less money, because you've been giving more of it to me to buy yourself more materials to have at home. I warned you that if you took up the habit, you'd end up losing more money than you would if you were unemployed. I know how much you needed this job, and how desperate you were when you came to me. I'm just looking out for your own well-being, buddy."  
  
"Chad, I'm a big boy," Will stated, in all seriousness, "You don't' need to look out for me. I'm fine."  
  
"It's just that I've been in this buisness for a long time, and I've seen a lot of people turn into mindless, homeless junkies in a matter of months. I may be your boss, but I don't want you to lose yourself in this world we help create."  
  
"I'll be fine!" he reassured Chad.  
  
"If you say so. But your income is getting lower and lower. Soon, you're gonna start owing me money, if you're not careful. Just watch yourself."  
  
"I will, I will. I'll see you tomorrow," Will said, walking out of the dark and musty apartment.  
  
"Take care, and happy Valentine's day," Chad answered.  
  
"You too," Will mumbled, ready to go home and have another fix.  
  
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~  
  
The winter air was making Angel's eyes sting and tear. He wasn't crying, really. "It's the weather," he kept trying to convince himself, to no avail. The conversation he'd had with Fred earlier in the day had made him really think about his situation.  
  
He couldn't keep letting Will do this to himself, or to him. He needed to stop the cycle now, before something truly serious happened. After wandering around the East Village for the majority of the afternoon, Angel had finally come up with a plan.  
  
It was obvious that he couldn't change Will without first letting him know that he knew about the drugs. He had to confront Will, and tonight would be the night.  
  
Walking into the clean apartment, Angel looked around a bit, then called out, "Will? Baby, are you here?"  
  
No answer.  
  
Breathing a sigh of relief, he waltzed into the bedroom to lay out his clothes and get to work. The actual process of letting Will know that he was on to his secret would only take a matter of minutes, but planning what he would say afterwards would take considerably longer.  
  
He shuffled through his wardrobe, trying to find the perfect outfit. Tonight was going to be a very important night, perhaps the most pivotal night of his and Will's relationship. He needed to find just the right clothes. After fumbling through the giant wardrobe, Angel settled on an outfit that was a newer addition to his wardrobe: a black shirt, with a pink zigzag and pink fishnet sleeves, and the black jeans with the rhinestones down the side. Laying the clothes neatly on the bed so as not to wrinkle them, Angel walked over to Will's dresser, looking at it for a second.  
  
He truly felt guilty invading his lover's privacy, the way that he was. He and Will had always believed that trust was important, and they had both trusted each other to respect one another's privacy. Angel knew, however, that this was a different circumstance. Pushing away the guilt that was eating at his heart, he opened the bottom sock drawer and was greeted by the evil powder. Taking out handfuls of small, plastic bags, each filled with the white substance, he placed them into the garbage bag that was sitting next to him. After the sock drawer was emptied, he opened every other drawer, shuffling through Will's clothing, finding bag after bag of heroin, each one sending a new slice of hurt through his tattered heart. When all the drawers were finally empty, Angel tied the garbage shut, dragged it down the hallway and threw it out in the garbage can sitting along the street. Some homeless junkie would hit the jackpot tonight.  
  
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Will's eyes were bugging out of his head by the time he got to the apartment. His last fix had only been an hour ago, and already he was beginning to shake and crave the relaxation and happiness that the heroin brought him. He could almost see the bags lined up beneath his clothes in his dresser, each one holding the key to his happiness. He hadn't even remembered it was Valentine's day today, and when he walked in the door, he was surprised to be greeted by Angel.  
  
Barely even acknowledging Angel's presence, Will brushed past him and rushed over to the dresser, ripping open the sock drawer to fulfill his needs. He was greeted only by the neat rows of white socks, no white powder.  
  
Frantically, he tore every drawer out of the dresser, madly searching for anything to satisfy the craving. His eyes blazing, he dashed into the kitchen where Angel was standing, calmly drinking a glass of water.  
  
"Where is it?" Will asked him, his voice a low, angry growl.  
  
"I threw it out. All of it," Angel answered softly, his eyes reflecting determination in his soul.  
  
"What do you mean you -," Will began, his hands clenching into fists.  
  
"What, you didn't think I knew? Baby, I've known since the first time you did it, but I didn't know how to tell you. I want you to stop. It's destroying our relationship. I love you, and I want the old you back," Angel insisted, his voice still serene.  
  
Almost as if Angel hadn't said anything at all, Will approached him, gripping his arm violently. "What the fuck did you do with it?"  
  
"I - I told you," Angel stammered, the calmness in his voice quickly replaced by the familiar submissive fear, "I threw it out. I want you to stop, and this is the only way."  
  
"You little bitch," Will screamed.  
  
Angel was speechless, gaping silently at his crazed lover. Before he even knew what happened he felt the stinging slap on his face, and the violent collision of his spine against the wall. He gasped quietly as the wind was knocked out of him for a second. Will picked him up and threw him to the ground, his back smashing against the hard floor.  
  
"You stupid bitch! Why would you do that?" he shrieked in Angel's face, "Why?"  
  
"I - I'm s - sorry," Angel stumbled over his words, trying to explain his motives to Will.  
  
He couldn't even continue his reasoning as Will sharply drove an elbow into his ribs. Yelping in pain, Angel tried to defend himself, holding his skinny arms in front of his face to block the blows. It was useless. A series of harsh, painful punches were hurled at him, each one more excruciating than the next.  
  
Barely conscious, Angel lay, virtually motionless, on the floor, moving only when his body spasmed in pain as Will continued to beat him. He could feel his eyes beginning to swell and bruise as Will cursed with each shattering blow to Angel's fragile body.  
  
Eventually, the beatings stopped. Angel lay in a bruised, bloody heap on the floor. Will looked at him as the fire in his eyes died down. "Oh my god," he whispered, stepping out of his crazy, drug-deprived state of mind for the first time that night. Getting up quickly, he looked one last time at Angel, wondering briefly if he had done any permanent damage. Scared, he fled the apartment and slammed the door behind him, not knowing where he was going or how he would get there.  
  
Once Will had left, Angel groaned quietly, and attempted to roll over. Immediately regretting it, he moved his hand slightly and felt the cordless phone next to him. How he was able to dial the number of the club in such a delirious state he'll never know, but the when Fred's soothing, deep voice answered on the other line, Angel felt a rush of relief, along with a new wave of pain.  
  
"Fred," he spoke, barely able to choke out a sound louder than a whisper.  
  
"Angel?" Fred asked, concerned.  
  
"You need to come here."  
  
"Why, what happened? Angel, what happened to you?" Fred prodded, as Angel's eyelids began to feel heavy, the pain ripping through his entire body.  
  
"Just get here," he whispered as consciousness left him.  
  
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~  
  
The bleeping sound of the monitor next to him woke him up. Groggy, and still in intense pain, Angel glanced around the room, seeing the stark, sterile-white walls of his room, and the dark sky outside the window. Moving his arm slightly, he looked at the black and blue splotches that ran all the way up it. The memory of the night's events began to rush back. Shutting his eyes, as if he would forget if he couldn't see, Angel attempted to push the memories out of his head. He could still feel the contact of Will's rock-hard fists on his fragile body. The tears rushed down his cheeks as Fred entered the room.  
  
"Thank god you're finally awake," Fred breathed as he walked in and sat in the chair next to Angel's bed.  
  
"How long was I asleep for?" he asked, his voice still hoarse and weak, similar to the condition his body was in.  
  
"Awhile. It's about 2 AM, and I think you got here around 11."  
  
"Oh," Angel replied, not knowing what to say.  
  
"Can we talk about this?" Fred asked, as he made himself comfortable.  
  
Sighing, and looking a bit annoyed, Angel answered him, "I - I don't really want to talk about it, I mean -."  
  
"You can't keep avoiding the subject forever, Ang. I'm not going anywhere any time soon, and neither are you, so I'm just gonna sit here and wait until you're ready to spill."  
  
Shifting a bit in his bed, his face immediately twisting into a look of pain from the movement, Angel looked at Fred, not wanting to share the horrifying events of the past couple of hours. "It's just. god, it's been such a long night. It's my fault."  
  
"Stop it," Fred cut in, harshly, "I never wanna hear you blame yourself for what he's doing. Nothing like this is ever your fault, you know that."  
  
"No, but, really. I did something stupid. Remember what we talked about this morning, how we talked about how I needed to do something about the problem? I did something. I got this brilliant idea that I should throw out his stash."  
  
Fred looked at Angel, slightly confused.  
  
"I know it was stupid. And, looking back on it, I was practically asking for him to get mad at me. I shouldn't be blaming myself for what he does, but this time I think it's justified. So he came home, and I was all confident, and ready to tell him that he had to stop what he was doing, and that I wanted to old Will back. So he came in, and he just ran right past me and ripped the drawers open, and there was nothing there. He came back out, and I'd never seen him so mad. I told him, calmly, where it was, and instead of him giving in and telling me I was right, he called me a bitch and that's when it started, and I just -," his voice broke as tears began to spill from his eyes, "I wanted to badly for everything to work, and it won't!"  
  
Fred gently placed his hand on top of Angel's looking at him, sympathetically. "I know you love him, but you can't change him. He has to change himself, and until he does it is not safe for you to be there. You need to do what's best, and you need to get yourself out. Queenie and I already made space for you."  
  
"I hate him. I love him, but I hate him, does that make any sense?" Angel asked, wiping his tears away. "Look at this! Look at where I am and look at what I let myself get into! Goddamnit! That stupid son-of-a-bitch! I don't want anything to do with him at all!" The rage was beginning to take over his thoughts, overpowering any love and sympathy that he felt for Will.  
  
"I understand completely. You're really angry right now, but I'm glad that you've realized that you need to get out of this."  
  
"I do realize it. I'm not even using his name anymore. I'm Angel Schunard again, not Angel Dumott," he insisted. Suddenly, his eyes softened and he looked over at Fred, "Thank you so much for being there for me. You're the closest thing to a real father I've ever had, and I don't know what I'd do if you weren't here. I love you, I really do."  
  
A warm smile appeared on his face, as he looked at Angel, bruised and battered, and held on a bit tighter to his hand. "I love you too. I know Queenie and I have told you a million times before, but you're our son, whether the DNA says so or not." He sighed, "Well, I'm gonna let you get some rest. The nurses keep saying that they need to "'look at you,' again anyway, so I'll get going. Rest up, Ang, and let me know if you need anything at all."  
  
"I will, I will. Thanks again," Angel replied, settling back into bed, watching Fred leave as the doctors came in.  
  
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~  
  
Almost as quickly as the friendly nurse had entered, she left Angel's room, shutting the door quietly.  
  
Rushing up to her, Queenie looked anxious as she asked, "Is he gonna be okay?"  
  
Smiling kindly, the nurse placed her hand on Queenie's shoulder, "He's gonna be fine. He's got a small fracture in his left arm, but that should heal quickly and easily. He can go home in a few days. It's just a lot of bruising, internal and external. He'll be sore for a week or two, but it's nothing serious. He's very fortunate, you know," she continued as her warm smile faded, suggesting seriousness in what she was saying, "This is the kind of thing that could have gotten very, very serious. I've seen people in a lot worse condition."  
  
"Thank you," Queenie replied quietly, as she wiped her tears away. Turning to Fred, she held her arms open, waiting for him to embrace her. Crying quietly on Fred's shoulder, Queenie held him tightly as he attempted to console her.  
  
"Just be thankful that he's okay, and he'll get through it," he whispered softly to her.  
  
"I know, I am, it's just that. God, that stupid bastard!" she hissed between her sobs, "If I see him, I don't even know what I'm gonna -."  
  
As if on cue, the elevator door opened, and Will stepped out.  
  
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A/N: Yeah cliffhangers!!! Sorry it's been so long since I've updated. I was originally gonna write more of this chapter, but it ended up being almost 10 pages long, which was ridiculous, so now it'll be 2 different chapters. Please R/R and thanks for being patient with me. To my loyal readers, I love you guys! 


	32. Chapter 31: Love Is Blind

Chapter 31: Love is Blind  
  
His clothing was wrinkled, his hair a tousled mess. His eyes were blazing with fear and anxiety. The second he stepped out of the elevator, Queenie and Fred turned to face him.  
  
"Is he okay?" Will asked, in a hoarse, frantic tone.  
  
"Why do you care?" Queenie snapped, her almond eyes narrowing into angry slits.  
  
"I didn't know what to do, so I called the club and Enrico told me you were here with him," he explained.  
  
She pushed herself away from Fred's body and turned to face Will. "Go and look at him," she hissed, as she gestured toward the shut door to Angel's room.  
  
Will obeyed, walking over and looking in the window. Angel was asleep, the bruises on his face glowing vibrant shades of blue and purple. He had one skinny arm lying on top of the stark white sheets. Cuts and bruises lined his arm like stripes. His eyes were swollen so much that they looked as though they couldn't open. Gasping, Will stepped backwards, inching away from the room that housed his lover. He began to breathe heavily, barely able to believe what he had done Angel.  
  
"You did that," Queenie said quietly. Laughing bitterly, she continued to stare him down, "You stupid fuck up, you're the one that hurt him that bad. You think he deserved that, huh? You think Angel deserved any of this? He's too good for you."  
  
Not knowing how to respond, Will just stared at her, his heard beating furiously inside his chest.  
  
"I fucking hate you!" she screamed, the shrillness of her voice echoing through the empty, tranquil hospital waiting room. "Look at him!" she yelled again, heavy sobs making her shoulders shake, "He could have died!"  
  
Fred approached her, attempting to comfort her, but she stepped away, clearing her throat and pointing at Will. "I hated you from the very beginning, and now I know why. You're a selfish, fucking bastard and I knew you'd fuck him over!" Fred continued to try and hold her, as she eventually collapsed onto him, worn down from all of the emotion stress.  
  
"Get the hell away from me!" She shrieked as Fred guided her out of the waiting room and into the elevator to take her outside. "Fuck you!" she yelled from behind the elevator door, loud enough for Will to hear it.  
  
Unsure of what to do, Will looked around, noticing that he was the only one in the waiting room. He had come here to see Angel, and now was his chance.  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
Flowers sat on the nightstand next to Angel's bed, their scent flowing through the little sterile room. Lying peacefully in the bed, Angel slept quietly on his back. Will sat in the chair next to the bed and looked at him, realized the damage he had caused.  
  
Whispering almost inaudibly, so as not to awaken Angel, Will spoke to him, "Look at what I did. I'm so sorry Angel, all I wanted was you. I thought Chad would fix everything, and getting to know him has only made this worse." His words got caught in his throat as he began to cry silently. "I only hope that you can find in your heart to forgive me."  
  
As soon as the crying silenced him completely, Angel began to stir and awaken, looking over at the occupied chair next to his bed. Will snapped his head up and wiped the tears away quickly. Staring into Angel's deep, pained eyes. "I'm surprised you even cared enough to come here," Angel said, with a surprising amount of force behind his words.  
  
"I was worried," Will reasoned, immediately realizing how stupid he much have sounded.  
  
"You weren't too fucking worried about me when you were beating the shit out of me tonight," Angel said bitterly, trying to turn away from Will but only wincing in pain as he could barely budge an inch.  
  
"Jesus, I can't even begin to -," Will started to say.  
  
"Save it. Save your breath, I don't want to hear it."  
  
"If it'll make you feel any better, you don't deserve any of it, and I'm a jackass for doing what I did. I don't deserve you," Will explained, the guilt in the pit of his stomach tormenting him.  
  
"You know what? You're right," Angel answered, "You are a jackass. You're more than that. I don't even want to see you right now." He paused. "Fuck that, I don't want to see you again ever. You aren't a part of my life anymore, Will. I want nothing to do you."  
  
Will felt the pain of Angel's words slicing through him. For the first time, he began to feel the amount of pain that Angel felt when he was beating him. "Give me another chance. I can change, I promise," he pleaded, his voice getting smaller and weaker with every word.  
  
"I'm not taking you back this time. What's gonna happen next time? You could have killed me, Will," Angel said, harshly, "and I'm not about to risk my own life on a lost cause."  
  
"God, Angel I'm -."  
  
"Just get out."  
  
"But -," he pleaded one last time.  
  
"Now!" Angel yelled, as he felt tears well up in his eyes. He couldn't be angry, shouldn't be angry.  
  
Will hung his head in pure shame, looking at his beaten lover again before he left.  
  
Angel shouldn't be upset. "No," he told himself out loud. "Not again. I'm not doing this again, I can't take him back." It was one of the hardest things he'd ever had to do, but letting the door quietly close behind Will was a step in the right direction, and he knew it. Heartbroken, pained, and tired, Angel relaxed his weary body and began to fall into a fitful night of sleep.  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
It was still freezing and dreary one week later. Will shuffled his feet slowly along the sidewalk. It was at times like this where he wished he could go home and see Angel, knowing full well that Angel was not at his home, rather at the club with Queenie and Fred. Will had no intention of going back to his apartment to be greeted by dark emptiness. He figured that it was about time to meet Chad and make his living for the day. As the days passed, his hatred for selling the drugs increased, as did his addiction to the evil substances.  
  
The chilly winter air made his eyes sting as he rubbed them to make the pain go away. he had found that when he was in bad need of a fix, his eyes started to hurt, along with many other things. Eventually, he arrived to the filthy apartment that was home to Chad's "meetings."  
  
Climbing up the stairs, his head still hung in weariness, Will entered the room, expecting to be greeted by the circle of dealers. Instead, only Chad was there. The scene was almost surreal, with the light streaming in from the windows and Chad's larger than life shadow projecting in front of him. He looked almost like a supreme being. "Satan," Will mumbled as he approached Chad.  
  
"William, I need to discuss a pressing issue with you," Chad insisted, as Will lifted his heavy head to meet Chad's eyes.  
  
"What is it now?" he asked, wearily.  
  
"You owe me some money."  
  
Shocked and slightly confused, Will replied, "I don't remember owing you anything. How much do I owe?"  
  
"As of right now, not too much, but I have a feeling it will get to be more. William," he sighed, speaking to Will as if he was a young child who had just misbehaved, "We've discussed this before. I know how much you need this job and the money that you get from it, but if you don't pay me, I don't pay you. I'm going to let this little debt slide, as long as it doesn't get any bigger. You need to watch what you're doing, or you'll crash and burn in this business. Got it?"  
  
"Got it," Will mumbled, glancing at his feet once again. "Is that all?"  
  
"For right now, yes," Chad replied as he handed the bags of heroin to Will to sell, "Meet me back here when this is gone."  
  
Without answering, Will turned and exited the same way he came in. He should have been mad at Chad for assuming that he was irresponsible with his money. The sad part, he knew, was that Chad was right.  
  
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A/N: So this chapter freakin' took me forever, and it isn't even very good. I've been so busy and just haven't had time to write this. The summer just kind of slipped away.. ok, Review anyway. I can handle the criticism. I hope to be able to update once a week from now on. 


	33. Chapter 32: Pay It Forward

Chapter 32: Pay It Forward  
  
"Queenie!" Angel hollered from his room, "I need more clothes!"  
  
Sighing, Queenie shook her head and opened the door. Lately, she'd been waiting on Angel hand and foot, ever since he'd been back from the hospital. The majority of his drag wardrobe was at the club, so he had been wearing drag every day since he'd been back. Sometimes, though, he'd want clothes to relax in, and those were all at the apartment he used to share with Will. Queenie had been suggesting that he go over and get the clothes from Will for the past couple of months, but the fear that registered in Angel's eyes every time she mentioned Will's name made her rethink the suggestion. It was now May, and Angel had been living with Queenie and Fred since February when he was finally cleared to go home from the hospital.  
  
"Angel, you have an entire wardrobe here, what else could you need?" Queenie asked, her voice sounding tired. She was a bit appalled at what she had just said. She never thought she'd see the day when she was scolding someone for wanting more clothes. After all, she was infamous for having the largest wardrobe of all her friends.  
  
"I want my sparkly jeans. You know, the ones with the sequins Tiff made for me? I just got this REALLY cute shirt, and it goes perfectly with them!" he whined like a little kid.  
  
"Listen, Angel baby, I hate to break it to you, but you're twenty one years old. I know that you're upset about what happened with Will and everything. God knows, I hate the boy too, but you need to face it someday. I love you like you're my own kid, but I'm not gonna do everything for you."  
  
"Queenie," Angel said quietly, as he sat on his bed wearing a tiny denim mini skirt and a white fuzzy sweater, hugging his knees to his chest, "I'm scared."  
  
Her painted lips spread into a motherly smile as she sat down next to him, leaning her head on his shoulder and placing her arms around his slim waist. "I know, baby, but you need to face your fears sooner or later. I can't fight all your battles for you, even though you know I'd like to. It's for your own good, though, I promise."  
  
He looked at her, his sparkling hazel eyes having an almost innocent quality to them. "I know," he sighed briefly, then smiled at her and continued, "If I go, will you take me shopping afterwards?"  
  
Queenie had to laugh. "Of course! I'm in need for a good case of shopping too. I'm beginning to think Tiff is forgetting who I am!"  
  
"I'm not just talking buying a dress or two. I'm talking full-out shopping spree. You up for it?" Angel asked, winking at her.  
  
The competitive spirit inside of her began to come alive as she responded, "What do you take me for? Of course! We won't be able to go till tomorrow, but it'll be the best damn shopping spree I've ever taken you on!"  
  
Angel giggled with excitement as he leaped up off his bed. Smoothing down his mini skirt, he checked his makeup and hair in the mirror one more time. Looking at Queenie before he laughed, he ran up to her and gave her a warm, loving hug. "Thank you. for everything. I know I say that all the time, but I don't know where I'd be without you."  
  
"Ang, you will NOT make me cry tonight!" she exclaimed, hugging him back. She could never understand why he was always thanking her. She couldn't think of anyone else she'd rather have as a "child," considering that she couldn't actually have one on her own. Continuing, she released him from the hug and held his hand. "Go on now, I'll see you soon."  
  
Squeezing her hand, he smiled at her and let her hand go as he walked quickly out the door.  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
The streets in New York City at night always seemed eerie and deserted. The only people that were out at this time were the homeless people, the junkies, and the homeless junkies. It was colder than Angel had expected. Shivering, he hugged his arms over his chest, and wished that he had those sparkly jeans now instead of the mini skirt.  
  
A group of people stood huddled in a corner, probably trying to keep warm. "At least it isn't raining," he thought as he kept walking. The shivering had taken his mind off where he was going, but he suddenly thought of his destination again. His heart rate quickening in fear, he rounded the corner onto the street where he and Will used to live happily together.  
  
Sighing, he remembered the days where he and Will would be walking home on this very street, hands laced with one another, talking and laughing, and simply enjoying the feeling of having someone to love. It had taken Angel the entire duration of their relationship to realize that what he and Will had was not, nor would it ever be, true love. It's not that he didn't love Will; that was not that case at all. He loved Will from the bottom of his heart. In fact, his love was so strong that all of the hatred and animosity Angel felt towards Will completely melted away only days after what he would refer to as only "the incident." The bottom line was that he was never in love Will. They had never shared that feeling of true, unexplainable love that made his heart feel whole. After "the incident," Angel remembered a certain conversation he had with Queenie back when he first met Will. "Baby, when it's true love, you won't even have to ask." She was right. She couldn't have been more right.  
  
Barely ten feet from the apartment, a man stood, pushing another man into a brick wall behind him. Two other men lurked on either side of him, arms crossed, looking straight at the man against the way. It didn't take a genius to realize that this was a drug deal. Having every intention of letting the situation pass him by, Angel walked on the opposite edge of the sidewalk. He stopped in his tracks when he realized who was being pushed up against the wall. It was Will.  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
"I said pay up!" Chad bellowed in his face, his hot breath reeking of liquor and smoke.  
  
"I told you I don't have it right now. Just give me a couple of days and I'll pay you back, I swear!" Will pleaded, his eyes wide as saucers with fear.  
  
"That's not good enough!" he snapped, pushing Will harder against the wall. "I warned you when you started working for me that you needed to be careful. I wasn't just talking for my own health, William. I don't like it when people don't pay me."  
  
"I know, and I'm gonna quit now, so if you just give me a few days, I'll have everything I owe you and more, it's just-" a cough interrupted him as he looked past Chad and saw Angel standing on the very edge of the sidewalk, looking bewildered. "Angel?"  
  
"Will, what's going on here?" Angel asked naively.  
  
"Oh, so this is Angel," Chad said, in a mocking sort of voice, "I suggest you leave, princess, this doesn't concern you."  
  
"I'm not going anywhere until you tell me what's going on," Angel insisted, speaking to both Chad and Will.  
  
"Angel, really, you should get out of here," Will told him, as if it were imperative that he evacuate the premises immediately.  
  
"Just tell me what's going on," Angel insisted, being surprisingly stubborn.  
  
"No," Chad said, a wicked grin spreading over his face, "Princess, why don't you stay?"  
  
"Angel, just get out of here. You don't wanna be here now," Will said, his body still being crushed against the wall.  
  
"No, William, I think he does wanna be here. Yo, guys, hold him up here. Me and Princess are gonna have a little, uh, talk."  
  
"Chad, stay away from him!" Will threatened, "He didn't do anything. Leave him alone!"  
  
"Now now, William. I'm telling you one again. Give me the money," Chad said, calmly as he walked around behind Angel, hooking his arms around Angel's waist. Flinching once Chad touched him, Angel squirmed and attempted to move away, but Chad's grip was too tight. Angel could feel Chad's breathing in his ear as he continued, "or he'll pay for you."  
  
Will's eyes widened with fear and anger, as he struggled against the other men's cold, solid grips. "Don't touch him!" He yelled, as one of the guys kneed him firmly in the groin. Keeling over, Will shut his mouth and hung his head, refusing to look at Chad and Angel.  
  
Jumping slightly when Will got hurt, Angel tried to escape Chad's arms again to see if Will was alright.  
  
"I'll ask you one more time, William," Chad proceeded as Angel heard him unzip something behind him, "Do you have the money?"  
  
"No," Will answered meekly, his body limp, his voice sounding defeated.  
  
"I'm sorry to have to do this, Princess," Chad said, turning Angel around so they were face to face, "But your lover here is not as saint-like as you thought. And now you get to pay for his mistakes." Chad's smile widened as Angel looked down to see Chad's pants pulled down to his ankles. When he realized what was about o happen, he tried to run away, but Chad was too quick. Shoving Angel to the ground, he lifted up his skirt and said, softly to him, "I'll give you the best you've ever had."  
  
"No!" Angel yelped, still trying to escape, "Will, help me!"  
  
Will's head hung lower as his shoulder shook with sobs.  
  
"Stop!" Angel screamed as Chad began to take his pay in full-swing.  
  
"Uh huh. yeah," he whispered on top of Angel, ripping his clothes as the drag queen beneath him cried out in pain, ignoring the pleading cries.  
  
"Get off of him!" Will screamed as he was still crying, only to be greeted by the fists of Chad's two bodyguards, beating him to a bloody pulp.  
  
"Stop!" Angel cried out one last time, before his consciousness began to slip away, blackness invading his vision. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
"Another job well done, men," Chad said, as he got up off the unconscious, bleeding drag queen. Pulling up and zipping his pants, he dusted off his hands and looked at Will, who was also bleeding from the savage beating the bodyguards had given him.  
  
"You like that, William?" he asked, as Will's fiery gaze met his. "You're lucky I didn't kill him."  
  
"You sick son of a bitch," Will hissed, as Chad smacked him across the face, sending searing pain through his already-bruised jaw.  
  
"You still owe me, William. One week. If you don't have it in one week," he threatened, as he looked over at Angel lying in an unconscious heap, barely covered with tattered clothing. "Or you'll be in that position instead."  
  
Angrily, he looked away from Chad, as the bodyguards let him go. As soon as they were out of sight, Will put the pain shooting through his limbs aside and rushed over to Angel.  
  
"Angel, baby?" he asked frantically, looking at his face, his eyes shut and the eye shadow forming blue shimmering lines on his eyelids. Stroking his soft black hair, Will let his tears fall from his face on to Angel's. He kissed the glossed lips briefly, realizing that Angel needed more than sweet kisses to heal. Quickly, he pulled the sleeves of his shirt down and picked Angel up, holding him in his arms. "Come on baby, wake up," he whispered.  
  
Almost on cue, Angel's eyes began to flutter open. Even with all he'd been through on this tragic night, his amber eyes still sparkled brightly. "Will," Angel stated, as if he could barely believe that Will was standing before him.  
  
"Thanks God you're awake," Will breathed, as he pushed the door to his building open with his body. "Are you okay?"  
  
Angel said nothing, he only began to cry. Clinging to Will's arms he laid his head on his shoulder and held him tightly, with no intention of letting go. Will held him just as tightly, carrying him into the elevator.  
  
"I'm so sorry, baby, I'm so so sorry," Will kept repeating as he got off the elevator and shoved the key into the door to his home. Carrying Angel inside, he set him down on the couch, not caring that Angel was going to get blood stains on the pastel floral print. Immediately, he called Queenie, whose phone number was still on speed dial.  
  
"Hello," she answered cheerfully. Will could visualize her standing in the middle of her cozy apartment, with Fred faithfully by her side, completely oblivious to the intention of the phone call.  
  
"Queenie? It's Will," he said, trying to remain as calm as possible.  
  
"Don't talk to me," she said, harshly and quietly.  
  
"I know you hate me, but listen, please."  
  
"You have two minutes," she answered, impatiently.  
  
"Angel was walking by, and I was having a problem with someone, because I owed him money and I didn't have it. He saw Angel, and threatened me, saying that if I didn't pay right now, Angel would pay for me. And I didn't know what to do, because I didn't have the money, and all I wanted Angel to do was leave so he wouldn't get hurt, but then his bodyguards held me back and he zipped down his-,"  
  
"He raped Angel?!" Queenie screeched into the phone, not even needing Will to finish the sentence.  
  
Will began to cry all over again. "I swear to God I tried to help but they beat me up so bad and they wouldn't let me go, and I kept begging him to stop, and to leave Angel alone, because Angel didn't know anything about what was going on. He kept going, and then Angel was unconscious, and as soon as they left I picked him up and brought him here, and he's bleeding a lot, and he won't say word, he just keeps crying, and I-," Will paused as his voice broke.  
  
Queenie took the opportunity to speak. "Oh my god," she gasped, remaining silent for quite sometime. After she had a moment to process what Will was saying, she continued, "He's at the apartment now?"  
  
"Yeah. Is there anything I can do, I mean, I. I.," Will didn't even know what to say.  
  
"Call the hospital, and tell them what happened. Tell Angel not to do anything, just stay with him. Make sure he doesn't shower or anything, because there's still the DNA on him. I'll be over there as soon as I can," she explained, then hung up the phone before Will got a chance to respond.  
  
He hung up the phone and looked over at Angel. He never realized how young Angel was before. He was only 21 years old, and the poor kid had gone through more trauma than most people would in a lifetime. Will couldn't help but feel overwhelming sympathy for his former lover.  
  
"Angel, I'm going to call the hospital now and set up an STD test for you. I just talked to Queenie and she's coming over now. Stay put, and everything will be okay, baby, I promise."  
  
He called information to find the number for the hospital. "Hello," he said into the phone as soon as they picked up. His voice was frantic sounding, and he was speaking very quickly. "A friend of mine just got raped, and we needed to get an STD test, or something, and. His name? Angel Schunard," Will said, a jolt of pain running through his heart as he said it. It hurt to not call him Angel Dumott anymore.  
  
"Dumott-Schunard," Angel said quietly. It was the first thing he'd said since he'd been at the apartment.  
  
Will couldn't help but smile slightly, despite the circumstances, "I mean, Angel Dumott-Schunard." He wasn't quite sure why Angel was so insistent on keeping Will's name, but it warmed his body from the inside out, melting away any pain he felt from the attack. "Yes, we'll be there soon. Thank you."  
  
Will looked at Angel, in his tattered, blood-soaked clothing, and sat down next to him. "I'm so, so sorry," he began.  
  
Angel looked at him sympathetically. Will was surprised that, so recently after the rape, he'd be willing to speak so openly. "Don't apologize, it's not your fault. You tried to save me."  
  
"But I didn't, and it's my fault that you ended up like this. If you had never met me, then-,"  
  
"If I had never met you, I wouldn't be half the person I am now. I love you. I'm not in love with you, but I love you from the bottom of my heart, and I'll never forget everything you've done for me. That's why I'm keeping your name. You're a part of me, and you always will be."  
  
"We're not. you know, are we?" Will asked, hinting at something he had wanted to talk to Angel about for the past few months they'd been apart.  
  
"No, we're not getting back together. But I'll always love you. Remember that," Angel said. The pain in his eyes was still clearly visible, but behind them Will could see genuine love and kindness, something he knew Angel would always have, no matter what trauma struck him.  
  
The two embraced, holding each other and clinging to one another until Queenie's loud knocking had interrupted them. Will opened the door, and Queenie hugged him. She had never hugged him like this before, not in the few years he'd known her.  
  
"Thank you," she whispered as she walked past him over to Angel. "Baby, I got Tiff to take her car to drive us to the hospital. Are you okay?"  
  
"I will be," he replied softly, letting Queenie hoist him up and carry him outside to the car, with Will following behind them.  
  
It was going to be a long night.  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
A/N: Okay, sorry for not updating, but I'm afraid I have some bad news. Due to college applications, and everything else school-related, I won't be updating for a while. And I'm talking a LONG time, not just a week or two. I might not even be updating this anymore at all, but we'll see. I'm sorry to any of you who are really enjoying this story and are mad at me for not updating, but the stress is entirely too much. So, review if you wish, and send me an email if you like, and, if I do find the time, I'll be updating the next time I write a chapter. Thanks for everyone who's been reading this, and I appreciate it more than you know. The feedback is wonderful! And I apologize again for not being able to update. 


	34. Chapter 33: Acquired Immune Deficiency S...

Chapter 33: Acquired Immune Deficiency Syndrome  
  
A drive down a few blocks in New York City had never taken so long. Although there was little to no traffic this late at night, sitting in the '84 Toyota Corolla with a shaken up and scared Angel was a heart-wrenching experience. Sitting in between Queenie and Will, Angel sat, hands shaking, clinging onto Will, who stroked his hair reassuringly. Queenie held Angel's other hand, staring straight and not saying a word. The silence was beginning to make them al a little uncomfortable. Luckily, Tiff pulled into the hospital parking lot, before the silence got too awkward to bear.  
  
"Here we are," Tiff said, as she turned off the car. She opened the doors for both Queenie and Will. Walking into the lobby, Will held Angel in his arms, not letting him stand on his own.  
  
"Can I help you?" the young receptionist asked with a strong southern accent.  
  
"We have an STD test set up. Where do we go?" Tiff asked, her deep baritone voice revealing right away that she was a he.  
  
With a look of disgust, the receptionist answered Tiff. "Second floor."  
  
"Thank you sweetie, have a nice night," Queenie responded. The group, consisting of three drag queens, and one preppy gay boy, walked away.  
  
"Will," Angel said, softly and weakly, "You can put me down now, I'm okay."  
  
Will obeyed, placing him down on the floor, letting his arm linger around Angel's waist for a bit. Angel, stumbling once his weakened legs had to hold his own body weight, leaned against the wall of the elevator. Noticing Angel's inability to stand, Will's heart broke as he picked him up again. "It's alright," he said as he held Angel protectively once again. Angel leaned his head on his shoulder, whispering, "Thank you," softly into his ear.  
  
The elevator made a dinging noise as they stepped out to be greeted by an older receptionist, this time a black man with graying salt and pepper hair.  
  
"Hi, we're here for an STD test," Tiff said, her deep voice ringing through the empty waiting room. The doctor pointed down an empty corridor, without saying a word.  
  
Proceeding down the hall, the three of them walked somberly, Angel still limp in Will's arms. There was a small desk at the back with a sign that had an arrow pointing to room C22. They walked in to find a doctor standing behind the table. He turned around when he heard the parade of high heels clicking against the floor, with a look of concern on his face as he saw Angel. Approaching the group, he introduced himself.  
  
"Hi, I'm Dr. Steele," he stated, holding his hand out to Queenie for a handshake.  
  
"I'm Queenie Chan, and this is Angel," she said, pointing to him.  
  
"Hello Angel," Dr. Steele stated clearly, looking him in the eye.  
  
Angel smiled weakly, not ever attempting to hold out his hand.  
  
"I'm going to have to ask all of you to leave while I speak with Angel alone."  
  
Will's look of terror and concern could not be masked as Dr. Steele continued, "You don't have to worry. I understand how traumatizing an event like this can be, but I need to ask some questions to find out what we need to test for. It's mostly just procedural stuff, but it's better if Angel and I are alone." Will felt better immediately, and appreciated the fact that Dr. Steele kept using Angel's name.  
  
"We'll just be waiting outside, then," Queenie said, as she and Tiff left the room. Will placed Angel on top of the sterile white bed, making sure that he was stable enough to sit up on his own. Kissing him gently on the top of his head, Will followed Queenie and Tiff, shutting the door behind him.  
  
Dr. Steele and Angel were alone in the room now, as Angel took the time to examine the doctor. He had thin, wispy blonde hair and a large bald patch in the middle of his head. He looked to be middle aged, probably married with children. He had kind, tired grey eyes, and the fine wrinkles on face revealed that he had been in his profession for quite some time.  
  
"Angel, tell me what happened. You can tell me as much or as little as you want about the actual event, but I need to know as much as possible about the rapist. This is so I can see what potential damage might have occurred." Angel looked relatively calm as the doctor spoke, his legs hanging off the end of the bed, his blood-soaked back facing the wall.  
  
"Well," he began, "Will and I had broken up three months ago because of his drugs. I had most of my clothes at the apartment we used to share, and I went over tonight to get these jeans that I wanted. On the way, though, I saw Will, and he was being held up by this guy with two bodyguards, or something. I guess he owed them money because the guy who, you know, did stuff to me, kept asking Will if he had it yet. I wouldn't leave until I knew Will would be okay, because I still love him and care about him. They both told me to leave, but them the other guy, Chad, I think his name was, said I could stay. Then he told Will that if he didn't have the money, then I'd pay for him. And that's when it happened. He - you know - and then the two bodyguards held Will up but he kept trying to help me, so they beat him up and that's the last thing I remember. I guess I was unconscious because when I woke up, Will was holding me and crying and kept saying how sorry he was." He barely stopped to take a breath the entire time he spoke; figuring that the quicker he said it, the quicker the vivid memories from the horrible night would flee his mind.  
  
"Thank you for sharing with me, Angel. I know how hard this can be, and I appreciate how open and honest you've been. If you can, tell me a bit about Chad," he said, his calm and soothing voice keeping Angel relaxed. He seemed like more of a psychologist than a blood doctor.  
  
"To tell you the truth, I don't know very much. I'm assuming that, just from what I've heard, Chad was the dealer that Will worked for. I told you, he sold drugs for a while, and that's why we broke up in the first place." Angel's heart broke when he thought about his bitter breakup with Will.  
  
"So then, it would be safe to assume that both Chad and Will did, or are still doing, drugs?"  
  
"Yes, I think so. I know Will does, but he doesn't share needles. Queenie asked him if he did, after our breakup, and he swears on everything that he didn't. Just because he's a junkie, doesn't mean he's stupid," Angel stated, getting rather defensive.  
  
"I'm not accusing him of sharing needles, but Will is not the one that I'm concerned about. Do you know if Chad has?" Dr. Steele asked, his voice still calm and quiet.  
  
"I have no idea. I don't know anything about him, really."  
  
"That isn't good. You are at high risk for contracting STD's, but what I'm most concerned about is your risk for contracting HIV. As of right now, if you did come in contact with infected fluids, it wouldn't show up on a test. The infections usually take about a month to show up on the tests. So," he continued, placing his hand gently on Angel's shoulder. Surprisingly, Angel didn't flinch when he touched him. "here's what we're gonna do. I'll give you a standard STD test, and then I'll schedule you for an HIV test in a month."  
  
"Okay," Angel responded, his voice shaky as he was unable to mask the fear inside of him. He could feel that something wasn't right, and, whatever it was, it scared him.  
  
"You're going to be okay, Angel, no matter what the outcome of the test is," De. Steele said softly as he pricked his arm with a needle and drew blood.  
  
"I hope so," Angel whispered back.  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
it was the longest month of his life. Will had been coming over every day to check up on him, making sure that he had everything he needed. Angel was surprised with his attentiveness. He hadn't seen any new marks on Will's arm since the rape, but he also hadn't seen him without long sleeves on, so he didn't know if Will was still using or not. He assumed that, if he was, he was staying far away from Chad. Assuming that, Angel was more than willing to let his ex-lover redeem himself. Will had brought over all of Angel's belongings from the apartment, washing and ironing his clothes for him.  
  
The day finally came when it was time for Angel to take the HIV test. To say that he was nervous would be an extreme understatement. He was terrified. Will volunteered to take him to the testing center, reassuring Angel, just as Dr. Steele had done, that everything would be fine. He wouldn't be HIV positive, and it would just be one big scare. He didn't get any STD's from Chad, so he probably didn't get HIV from him either. To calm Angel's nerves even more, Will said he'd get an HIV test too, just to make sure that they were both safe. Gratefully, Angel accepted Will's offer and they went to the hospital together, hand in hand.  
  
The receptionist on the second floor didn't remember Will or Angel from that horrible night one month ago. He merely pointed them back to the same room, just as he had on that evening.  
  
"I'm scared," Angel whispered, as he gripped Will's hand so hard that his knuckles were turning white.  
  
"Everything will be fine," Will said, letting Angel's hand go as he wrapped his arms protectively around Angel's waist, holding him tightly in a reassuring hug. "You'll see, Ang, you'll have nothing to worry about."  
  
Leaning onto Will, Angel began to feel better. They let go of one another, but went back to holding hands as they entered the room where they would be taking the tests. Everything would be fine; Angel knew it.  
  
"Hello again, Angel," Dr. Steele said, extending his hand for a shake.  
  
His heart racing, Angel replied, "Hi," and shook his hand.  
  
"I'm going to walk you through this process, Angel, step by step," Dr. Steele explained. Angel felt reassured; he liked how Dr. Steele always told him exactly what he was going to do. "First, I'm going to take a small ample of your blood, just like I did for the STD test. Would you like to do this alone, or would you like - Will, is it? - in here with you?"  
  
"I'd like him to stay, if that's all right."  
  
"That's fine. I don't know if we've formally met, but I'm Dr. Steele," he said, extending his hand once again.  
  
"Will Dumott," he replied, shaking his hand, firmly. "I'd actually like to get an HIV test as well, if that's not too much of a problem."  
  
"No, not at all."  
  
"We just thought it would be a good precaution to take, you know," Will explained.  
  
"I think it's a very necessary precaution, and I'm thrilled that you're willing to be so supportive."  
  
Smiling, Will nodded, not really knowing what to say.  
  
"Angel, why don't you sit in this char right here, while I take the blood sample," he directed. Pulling out a needle, he pricked Angel's thin arm, drawing a vial of vibrant red blood. Angel hated needles, which was evident when he turned his head away from Dr. Steele and the needle, shutting his eyes. "All set," he said, letting Angel up out of the chair.  
  
Will replaced him in the worn vinyl chair, rolling up his sleeve to have the blood drawn. Angel noticed the marks from the heroin fresh on his arm. Closing his eyes and looking away, he felt a pang of hurt go through his body. He really thought Will had given up the habit.  
  
"I have your phone number on file, and I'll call you in two days and let you know the results," Dr. Steele said, interrupting Angel's thoughts. Anxiety flooded back into his big, amber eyes at the anticipation of waiting two days in suspense.  
  
"It isn't that long, I promise," Dr. Steele continued, reading Angel's expression. "And since you didn't get any STD's, there's a reasonable chance that you don't have HIV. If the tests to do come up positive, there are a lot of ways to prolong the evolution of the virus. We'll talk more once the results are back." Angel nodded, still anxious. "Everything will be fine," the doctor said again, as Angel and Will exited the room.  
  
For some reason, Angel had a tough time believing him.  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
Angel's bedroom was quiet and peaceful. Sitting on a stool at his dresser, he examined his face in the mirror, carefully applying glowing, pink glitter lipstick. Will lay on the couch, flipping through an old issue of The Advocate. The phone ringing startled them both, as Will got up from the couch to pick it up.  
  
"Ang, it's for you."  
  
Wondering who the hell would be calling at three in the afternoon on a Thursday, he picked up the phone, and began the conversation.  
  
"Yes. oh, hi. umm." Angel paused for a very long time, his body as still as a statue. He didn't blink. "I know where I can get some of that. Yes, I'll try and come by in a few days. Thanks, bye."  
  
The phone fell right out of his slender fingers as he stared straight ahead at the empty wall in front of him, not even moving. It was a good few minutes before Will, plagued with concern, walked over to him.  
  
"Angel, are you alright?"  
  
Rainbow rivers of eye shadow ran down his cheeks, as he turned to face Will. "I'm not, but you are."  
  
"What are you -," Will began, not even needing to finish his sentence. He knew exactly what Angel was referring to. Will was HIV negative. Angel was HIV positive.  
  
Without saying another word, Angel walked solemnly to the couch, laying down stiffly. He buried his head into the pillow and began to sob. Crying harder than he ever had in his life, Angel thought of everything he'd been through: the beatings from his father, getting kicked out of the house by his parents, his mother's death, Will's drug habits, Will's abusiveness, getting raped: nothing even compared to knowing that his days were officially numbered. He was now a part of a statistic, no longer an individual person. He was no longer Angel Dumott-Schunard, the vivacious drag queen who was young and full of life, he was just another HIV victim, with a doomed fate.  
  
Will was stunned. Angel had never been once to hide his emotions, and he'd seen him cry before, but it was nothing like this. Screams and shouts came out of his mouth, his small body convulsing every time he took a breath. He watched him for what seemed like forever. The tears kept coming. Not even knowing what to do, or what to say, he rubbed Angel's back to calm him down. It worked, as Angel sat up almost immediately.  
  
"I'm gonna die," he whispered. Will took him in his arms, and held him closely to his chest, as if, maybe if he held him long enough, the HIV would disappear. "I'm gonna die," Angel whispered again. There were no tears left inside of him: he had cried all of them out.  
  
"There's a lot of things you can do, I mean, there's AZT and a lot of other drugs that the doctors can give you," Will tried to reassure him.  
  
"It's not gonna cure me!" he shouted, looking up at Will's concerned eyes. "Do you hear me? I'm gonna die! I'm not gonna live to be old, have kids, fall in love. I'm never gonna have any of that! I'm only 20 years old!"  
  
"It'll make you live longer," Will said, knowing that anything he said wouldn't help the situation.  
  
"You don't understand," he said quietly, pushing himself away from Will.  
  
Sighing, he replied, "You're right. I don't understand. You're the best person in this world, Ang, and all I want is to help you through this."  
  
"You can't help me through it. All you ever do is shoot up," Angel said, immediately regretting the words escaping his mouth.  
  
Will looked initially hurt, but then spoke again. "That's true. But I'm gonna quit, Ang. I'm going to rehab, and I'm gonna come back and be clean. I love you from the bottom of my heart, but I can't be here and help you when I'm in need of help, myself. I'm always here for you, though, you know that."  
  
For some reason, his words were so comforting to Angel. He inched back over to Will and held his hand. "I know," he said. No other words were needed.  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
Queenie and Fred sat in the kitchen, upset and lost. Blaring horns and bright light stand out in the darkness of the city illuminated the room. They didn't know what to do with Angel, how to react, or how to treat him. Fred had given him a pill of AZT to take for tonight, and promised that he'd go with Angel to the doctor tomorrow to get his own prescription.  
  
Distraught, Queenie mindlessly held Fred's hand, and stirred her coffee with the other. Tears streamed down her face as she stared straight ahead in silence. She had given Angel one of Fred's AZT pills to take. Watching Angel hold the pill in his hand broke her heart. Both her partner and her son were infected with the ultimately fatal HIV. There wouldn't be another day that would go by where she wouldn't have to hear a beeper going off to remind them to take the medicine that would prolong their lives.  
  
Angel looked at the pill in his hand with disgust as he sulked into the bathroom. Glaring at the round, white object in his small, slender hand, he stood in front of the toilet. "You aren't going to cure me," he whispered as a flush was heard.  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
A/N: I fixed the ending of this because I felt like the new ending fit better. I hope you enjoy it! 


	35. Chapter 34: We'll Begin Our Affirmation

Chapter 34: We'll Begin Our Affirmation  
  
"New York City," Angel mumbled, miserably, trudging down the sidewalks of Avenue B looking for the street vendor he'd been buying his AZT from.  
  
"Hey, I remember you," the man said in a thick Brooklyn accent as Angel approached him.  
  
"I need to fill my prescription," Angel continued, barely acknowledging the man's presence.  
  
"A'ight, a'ight. This for you?" he asked, while filling the transparent orange bottle with round, white pills.  
  
"Yes. Do you really have to rub it in my face like that?" Angel questioned, getting a slight attitude in his voice.  
  
"Hey, no need to get an attitude. I'm doin' you a favor. What your name?"  
  
"Angel."  
  
"Nice to meet ya, Angel. Name's Jimmy."  
  
"Oh," Angel responded quietly, as Jimmy handed him the bottle back.  
  
"You're all set. And I wasn't tryin' to rub it in your face. I got it too. You're not alone," he said softly, the roughness in his voice evaporating.  
  
"It's nice to know that," Angel answered sincerely. Pausing, he cracked his knuckles, and then blurted out, "I just got it."  
  
"It's been five years for me. This AZT stuff, you know, some people say it's a load of shit, but I've been healthy since I started taking it."  
  
"It's not gonna cure me."  
  
"You're right, but it'll make the time you have much longer."  
  
"I guess." Angel answered, cracking his knuckles again.  
  
"I wanna give you something," Jimmy continued, "I get a lot of people like you here."  
  
"What do you mean 'people like me'?" Angel asked, beginning to get slightly defensive.  
  
"I just mean people who might get shunned way at a hospital. Let's face it: not every hospital is gonna be willing to give some gay guy in girl's clothing proper treatment for a disease that they assume you got from having lots of unprotected sex."  
  
Ready to argue with him, Angel opened his mouth to say something, but then shut it and nodded. "You're right."  
  
"I work at a hospital clinic for the night shift, and when I'm not working there, I'm out here selling the AZT. I order it straight from the hospital. You're not supposed to know where I get it from, or how I get it. Don't wanna get my co workers fired or nothing, so keep it on the down- low, you know?"  
  
"Yeah."  
  
"Well, anyway, I get a lot of you folks around here, and I know someone who wants support when I see them. It's called Life Support, ironically enough," he said, handing Angel a bent, yellowing business card. "Every night at 9:30 PM."  
  
"What's it about?" he questioned, examining the card in his hand.  
  
"Just head over there tonight. Tell Paul, the guy in charge, that Jimmy sent you. He's an old friend of mine."  
  
"What do I have to do?"  
  
"Show up and listen," Jimmy said, handing Angel the newly-filled bottle of pills and turning his back on him to put the larger bottle away in a suitcase.  
  
Puzzled, he thanked Jimmy for the pills, even though he flushed them down the toilet every time he was supposed to take them anyway. walking away, Angel examined the business card, reading what it said.  
  
Forget regret, or life is yours to miss  
Life Support  
Support others, and help yourself.  
Meets daily at 9:30 PM  
Call Paul (202-8475) for details.  
NO DAY BUT TODAY!  
  
The positivity and cheerfulness of the message on the card made Angel slightly annoyed. How could anyone be so happy when they had AIDS? Confused and bitter, Angel walked home, a fresh bottle of AZT in his hand.  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
"Hey baby, how's the city this morning?" Queenie greeted Angel, air- kissing his cheek.  
  
"It's okay, I guess," he responded gloomily. Lately he'd been very depressed, and understandably so. Queenie hadn't known exactly how to go about treating him, so she'd been acting the same way she always had: happy and loving, which Angel didn't seem too thrilled with.  
  
"Smile, baby, everything's gonna be fine," she said, in a voice more optimistic than Angel could tolerate.  
  
"Everything's not gonna be fine, because I'm not gonna get better," he snapped back, clutching the business card in his hand like a valuable keepsake.  
  
"You can't keep thinking like that, you know. It's not doing any good." She sighed, hopelessly. Seeing the card in his hand, she questioned, "What's that?"  
  
"I went to go fill my prescription, and I met this guy who said I should go to this." He handed Queenie the card.  
  
"Ooh! I've heard about this. They started the Life Support group right around when Fred got diagnosed. I've heard the best things about it."  
  
"I don't think I'm actually gonna go, but I felt bad saying no to Jimmy," Angel explained. His constant guilt and need to make everyone happy was a glimpse of the old Angel. Queenie smiled. She missed the cheerful, optimistic transvestite she had taken under her wing four years ago.  
  
"I really think you should go, Ang, it'll be good for you," Queenie said, trying to force the sociability back into him. The only time he'd left the house since the diagnosis was to fill his prescription every week.  
  
"I don't know," Angel said, skeptically.  
  
"How about you go tonight, and see how it is. If you hate it, you never have to go again, but I want you to leave the house."  
  
Sighing, Angel rolled his eyes.  
  
"I'm not kidding. Ever since you've gotten diagnosed and William went to rehab, you've barely seen the light of day. You don't work at the club, you barely dress up anymore, and I don't think I've seen you talk to anyone besides me and Fred for over a month!"  
  
Angel looked down and tugged on his baggy, faded gray t-shirt. "Yeah, well if you were gonna die like me, then I bet you wouldn't be so happy."  
  
"If I knew that my days were numbered, I'd live every day to the fullest. 'No day but today,' isn't that what it says on the card?"  
  
"Yeah," Angel grumbled.  
  
"So seize the day and do something productive. I'm only telling you this because I love you, and I don't want to see you sit here and waste away," she explained, placing her hands on Angel's shoulders.  
  
Stepping back cautiously from her embrace, Angel looked straight into her eyes. "I'm only going tonight. That's it."  
  
"That's all I ask," she said quietly, her voice defeated and tired.  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
Arriving at the building approximately 9:27 PM, Angel glanced up at the tall, decrepit building in front of him. Deep red bricks were crumbling away, and green vines grew up the sides of the massive structure. Sighing, Angel entered the building, and saw that the first door to his right was marked "Paul Mingo: Life Support."  
  
"This is it," he whispered as he placed his hand on the doorknob. Feeling slightly self-conscious, Angel left his hand on the doorknob and looked down at what he was wearing. This was the first time he'd dressed in full drag since he got raped. His outfit was truly stunning: A rubbery plastic dress that looked like it was just lots of rings covering his body. The bright bands of color came down to about mid-thigh. A bit of his legs showed, only to be covered just below his knee by high, shiny white platform boots. A long blonde wig cascaded down his back and his face sparkled with glittering makeup. He knew he shouldn't feel insecure about his appearance; he never had before. Tonight was different, however. He wasn't just Angel in drag; he was Angel in drag with HIV. Taking one last breath, he turned the knob and opened the door.  
  
Faces of strangers greeted him as he entered the dimly-lit room. Christmas lights hung around the perimeter of the space, and candles were placed randomly around on tables. A small group of people sat; some in chairs, others on the floor, and a short, thin black man with shoulder- length dreadlocks stood in the middle, with a huge, blinding smile on his face.  
  
"Welcome," he greeted, his deep brown eyes greeting Angel with happiness. "I'm Paul Mingo. It's nice of you to join us."  
  
"Hi," Angel mumbled. It wasn't like him to be this shy and insecure. He extended his hand, and Paul shook it, firmly. "I'm Angel."  
  
"Why don't we all introduce ourselves to Angel," Paul said to the group. "They've all been coming for months. You're the first newbie we've had in a while."  
  
"Oh," Angel responded, feeling even more uncomfortable.  
  
"Don't worry, we love having new people. The nine of us can only share the same stories so many times," Paul explained, then continued, "So, let's begin our affirmation. Take a seat, Angel."  
  
A short Hispanic boy who looked to be about the same age as Angel, got up from his seat. "I'm Steve. You can sit here, if you like."  
  
"Sure. Thank you," Angel replied, baffled by the friendliness of the group.  
  
"Steve, why don't you start, since you've already introduced yourself," Paul said, taking his seat next to a very affection lesbian couple, and a man who looked a bit older than Angel, with a plaid shirt and faded jeans on.  
  
"Hi, I'm Steve. I got HIV when I was ten from a blood transfusion, and now I'm 23. My boyfriend, Kirk, had HIV too," Steve said, all the while with a big, optimistic smile on his face. Angel was amazed at how happy he was.  
  
"I'm Gordon," the man in the plaid shirt said. His head was down, his hands folded tightly in his lap.  
  
"Thank you for sharing, Gordon and Steve. I'm Paul, and I'm the leader of this group. I started it when my partner died from AIDS over three years ago. I've made a commitment to myself to do this in Nick's memory. He lived every day as his last, and he his dying wish was that others who were infected would live a life as full as his."  
  
"I'm Sherri, and this is my girlfriend, Rae," a girl with long, blue hair and black clothes with chains said, as she pointed to the girl sitting next to her. Rae wore faded blue jeans with tons of patches on them and gauzy thing peasant shirt. She and Sherri had their hands locked together, as if they were one person, never to be separated. "We're both negative, but a good friend of ours just recently found out she's positive. We come here to support her, because she's afraid to come herself."  
  
Rae smiled shyly as another woman sitting next to her, a tiny young- looking Asian girl with curly black hair and fluorescent orange pants proceeded to introduce herself as Lisa. "I'm just like Steve. I got it through a transfusion."  
  
The woman sitting next to Lisa was also Asian, but she looked older. Her eyes were more sunken in, and her body looked emaciated. "I'm Sue," she said quietly, her voice slightly raspy. "I have full-blown AIDS. I'm the only one here who probably won't live to see the next millennium." She smiled sadly, then continued, "but I've had this virus for close to 10 years, and I just started taking AZT about 4 years ago. I have no regrets at all. Paul was the one who helped me through everything, and my life has been wonderful."  
  
The whole group sat in an awkward, sad silence. It was clear that Sue was not well, and that her days were definitely numbered. She didn't have very much time left.  
  
"What an act to follow," a large, African girl said, laughing uncomfortably. "I'm Pam, and my husband and I are both infected with HIV. He refuses to come to these things. He's a bit of a homophobe, and the fact that there are gays here doesn't really appeal to him. I just like to bring back what I hear here home."  
  
"I'm Ali," a skinny girl with a thick Irish accent and long, flowing blonde locks announced. "Pam's an old friend of mine from college, so I came here with her in the first place. I'm negative, but I like to support her and her fabulous, jackass of a husband, Ricky." She giggled slightly as she leaned over to Pam. "Just kidding, sweetie."  
  
Angel's turn had finally come. Looking around at the group of people who had just openly shared a part of themselves, Angel felt extremely awkward. He wasn't this open about his HIV, and the only people he'd ever talked to about it were Will, Queenie and Fred. Come to think of it, those were the only people he had talked to since he'd been diagnosed. He took a deep breath, and introduced himself. "I'm Angel," he said, suddenly aware of how high his voice sounded compared to Steve, Gordon, and Paul. "What else do I have to say?" he questioned, looking to Paul for help.  
  
Giving him a kind, genuine smile, Paul replied, "As little or as much as you like. You can stop at your name, if that's all you want to share. Nothing is required here. We're just a support group, that's all."  
  
"Okay," Angel replied, settling back into his comfortable silence.  
  
"Thank you for sharing, everyone. I'm sure that, with time, Angel, you'll get to know all of these people, and they'll support you just as we've all supported them. Does anybody want to discuss anything, before we begin our affirmation?"  
  
"My T-Cell count is getting lower," Gordon blurted out in a loud, bitter voice.  
  
"Have you been taking your AZT, Gordon?" Paul asked in a maternal way.  
  
"No," Gordon admitted openly, chewing on one of his nails.  
  
"Gordon, I know we've all talked about this before. Your T-Cell count won't stay stable unless you take the AZT."  
  
"What's the point? It's not gonna cure me!" Angel gasped slightly as Gordon said that. If his voice was higher, Gordon and Angel could be the same person.  
  
"It'll let you live longer. This is what we're talking about here: Life. None of us are dying from AIDS. We are living WITH AIDS. There's a big difference, and it's important that all of you see that," Paul preached, his voice getting louder and more intense with every powerful word.  
  
"This is where I'll step in," Sue said, her weak raspy voice cutting in after Paul. "I am NOT dying from AIDS. I know I will someday, but until I stop breathing, I'm not dying. That's what you need to realize, Gordon. Well, all of you need to see it. You can't live every day thinking about the fact that you're gonna die. You wont' live a full life if you do that. You need to seize the day and cherish every day you're here. I know I do. Look at me," Sue said, as she used the chair for support to stand up, "I don't have that many more days, and we all know that. It's no big secret that I won't be here much longer. But the days that I have are precious. You all need to remember that. It's the secret to living."  
  
Struck with emotion he hadn't felt in so long, Angel felt tears rolling down his cheeks. He was ashamed of himself. How could he have been so ridiculous? Here was a woman who was obviously going to die any day now, and she was as optimistic and positive as anyone could be. Her story touched him so that he remained silent for the rest of the meeting, sitting and listening to everyone else talk. He'd never gotten so much satisfaction out of simply listening.  
  
Almost as quickly as it began, the meeting ended. The meeting concluded with a brief, yet heartfelt hug with everyone in the group. Everyone started to exit, but Angel stopped Sue on her way out.  
"Sue," he said quietly, tapping her gently on the shoulder.  
  
"Yes?" she responded, staring at Angel with her deep, sunken eyes.  
  
"I just wanted to tell you how much your story touched me. I came into this meeting thinking like Gordon, and I'm leaving with a new outlook on everything."  
  
Her pallid face glowed as she received the compliment, dropping her cane to hug Angel. "That means a lot to me, you know," she said, as he hugged her skin-and-bones body.  
  
"I'm really gonna take what you said to heart. I wanna try hard to live like every day is my last. Thank you so much for sharing with me."  
  
"Anytime, Angel. I mean that. You ever need to talk to anybody, I'm always around. I'll see you tomorrow at 9:30, right?" she asked, winking at him.  
  
"Absolutely."  
  
"Goodnight," she said, as Paul walked over and picked up her cane. She walked slowly out the door, shutting it behind her, leaving only Angel and Paul left in the room.  
  
"Thank you for coming tonight, Angel. I can tell that Sue's story really meant a lot to you."  
  
"It did. I'm so surprised how much I learned tonight. I didn't know that you could get so much out of just sitting and listening," Angel explained, speaking like a bewildered child.  
  
"It is surprising, and very rewarding. You're always welcome at these meetings, and whenever you feel up to it, you can share as much as you want. We're a very open group, as you've seen, and the trust that we put in each other is amazing. You'll get a lot out of this. I can tell that just this one meeting has really changed you, and I like this change."  
  
"Thank you," Angel replied, looking at him oddly. It was strange how much Paul knew about him without Angel ever having to say anything.  
  
"No, thank you. I'll see you tomorrow at 9:30, Angel."  
  
"Goodnight, Paul," Angel said, hugging him one last time.  
  
"Keep your head up. Things will only get better from here," Paul promised on Angel's way out.  
  
This time, he believed the optimism.  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
A/N: I'm thinking 35 and 36 will be up by the end of the week ( I'm loving this "I don't give a crap about sports" attitude, because it gives me much more time to write! Woohoo! Review please! 


	36. Chapter 35: Continuing the Affirmation

Chapter 35: Continuing the Affirmation  
  
"I want to thank all of you for joining me here today. I know this is a sad and somber occasion, but Sue would not have wanted it to be this way. She knew that she was gonna go any day now, and it came as no shock to any of us. She'd want us to celebrate her life, not mourn her death," Paul spoke in his usual preacher voice, standing outside in the warm June air amidst a sea of gravestones. Ali, Pam, Lisa, Steve, Gordon, Rae, Sherri, Angel, and Paul stood in a small, tight circle holding hands. Tears flowed freely down their faces, as they looked down at the gravestone in front of them. "Sue Yang. August 13 1960 - June 5 1996. Beloved wife and sister. NO DAY BUT TODAY."  
  
"I know this is hard on everybody. Sue was a very good friend of mine. But we need to go on and be strong. We need to get her message heard. Seize the day, and live your life as if every moment were your last. That is what she wants all of us to remember about her. Would anybody like to add anything?"  
  
The rest of the Life Support group stood still as statues. Even Gordon was crying silently, which touched them all. The only emotion they'd ever seen him express was anger; never had they seen him sad.  
  
"We'll still have our meeting tonight at 9:30. I hope to see all of you there." Paul always concluded their sessions with a big group hug. The 9 people embraced, feeling the warmth of their bodies huddled together.  
  
As the rest proceeded to leave, Angel stayed behind, mesmerized by Sue's gravestone. Kissing his finger and placing it on her grave, Angel left a small, barely noticeable red glitter mark. "I'll miss you, baby," he whispered, as he got up to leave, following the rest of the crew.  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
"Queenie," Angel yelled to a seemingly empty house, "I'm home!"  
  
"Hey," Fred said, emerging from the bedroom with his pajamas still on. "Queenie decided to seize the day and go shopping. I thought you weren't coming home until later."  
  
"It ended sooner than I thought it would," Angel answered, somberly.  
  
"Where did you go?"  
  
"Queenie didn't tell you?"  
  
"No, she just told me you were going out," he said, puzzled.  
  
"Oh. My friend, Sue, from Life Support passed away and her funeral was today," Angel stated in the same, melancholy tone.  
  
"Jesus, Ang, I'm so sorry. I had no idea, I -," Fred began.  
  
"No, no it's alright. We all saw it coming, and so did she. She wasn't doing very well, you know. I mean, she'd been sick for so long and even when I first met her, she flat out told me that she was gonna die soon. It was no shock. It's still sad, though, because I really miss her."  
  
"I think you've just said more now than you have in the past 2 months," Fred informed him, smiling shyly.  
  
"You know, lately I've been a lot more. happy, I guess," he said, a bright smile appearing on his face. "I think Life Support is really helping me. I talked to Sue a little on the first night I was there, and her attitude amazed me. I didn't understand how someone could be so positive and love life so much when they were as sick as she was. But she just kept telling me to live for the moment and have no regrets and I think that really hit me. I'm gonna work hard to keep that in mind every day." He nodded in satisfaction.  
  
"Good for you, Ang. So does that mean you're gonna start taking your AZT now?" Fred asked, in his all-knowing way.  
  
"Wh - What do you mean? I've been taking my AZT, what did you think I was doing with it?" he asked, acting as if he knew nothing of the sort.  
  
"Flush it down the toilet, stash it in your drawer. I've seen it all, and I can tell that you're not taking it."  
  
"Why would you accuse me of that?" Angel continued, keeping up the act.  
  
"Because it's the truth. I can tell. Don't play dumb with me, Angel, I know what you're doing." His voice was harsh and stern, light years away from his normally docile and calm demeanor.  
  
"It's not gonna cure me," Angel mumbled, in a voice that Fred could barely hear.  
  
"You're gonna die a lot sooner if you don't take it. I've had HIV for 4 years now. It could have been longer, I don't know. And I've been taking my AZT every day, and I haven't gotten sick yet. You're only killing yourself quicker."  
  
"I'll start taking it, okay? Just lay off!" he exclaimed, walking away.  
  
"I'm only telling you for your on good. We're one in the same, Angel, and I know what you're going through. As much as you like to think there's nobody in the world who understands, I do. Everyone with HIV and AIDS does. You're not alone in this. Don't make it that way."  
  
"Whatever," he mumbled, and continued to walk away. "I'm getting ready, and then I'm going to Life Support. Tell Queenie I was home and I took my pills."  
  
"Angel, I am not going to lie for you. She knows too, she just doesn't say anything."  
  
"Then tell her I didn't take my pills, it doesn't matter. I do what I want! I'm almost 21 years old, I'm in control of my own life!"  
  
"Don't get all 'rebellious teenager' on me, Angel. We're the ones that took you in and were there for you when you didn't have anybody else. I think you take that for granted. If Queenie hadn't been so welcoming, where would you be now? Tell me, honestly, where would you be?"  
  
Taken slightly aback, Angel gawked at him. He had never even thought about that before. It didn't even occur to him that he could have a life without Queenie and Fred.  
  
"I don't know," he answered quietly.  
  
"Exactly. You take both of us for granted. Everything we've done for you has been in your best interest, and you need to keep believing that. We love you like our own son. why would you think anything different?"  
  
"I don't' know," he whispered again.  
  
"Don't walk all over us, and ignore us, thinking we're only around when you want us to be. As far as you and I are concerned, I'm the closest thing to a father you've ever had. I'm trying to help you, and you only listen to me when it's something you want to hear!"  
  
"That's not true! I'm not some stubborn little bitch, Fred. I care so much about you and Queenie. You have no idea! But you don't' know what I'm going through. I got raped, damn it! I'm not over that yet!" he screamed, his body aching from keeping his anger so bottled up.  
  
"I know you did, and we've all been trying to help you through it. You've been shutting us out, and I don't think I've spoken more than two words to you in the past two months! I know you're hurt, and I know you're traumatized, but don't shut out the people who love you the most! If you have to, do it to me, but not to Queenie. She comes crying to me every night because she thinks you don't love her anymore. She thinks you don't care!" his voice boomed, echoing around the barren room.  
  
"Why would she ever think that? I love you both! I never thought I'd have to prove that to you!"  
  
"You don't have to prove it to us, just love us all the time, like we love you. We are here for you whenever you need us, no matter when it is. We're never not gonna be here for you. Remember that."  
  
"I'm so sorry. I didn't even realize what I was doing, and I just -," he figured it was pointless to continue, since it was hard to speak while crying.  
  
"It's okay. And I understand why you're acting the way you are. I don't know completely what you're going through, but the diagnosis is a tough thing to handle. I've been there. But let Queenie and me support you. We're trying to do everything we can for you. All you need to do is let us."  
  
"I know. I'm so sorry," Angel kept saying, over and over again, as Fred hugged him tightly.  
  
"It's alright. Everything's gonna be fine, Ang, calm down."  
  
Fred held him until his crying had ceased. The two of them stood there in that position for quite some time, in golden silence.  
  
"I'm gonna get ready for Life Support," Angel said, finally interrupting the quiet.  
  
"Okay. I'll see you later."  
  
"You know, you should come sometime. I bet you'd really like it," he said, extending the invite to Fred.  
  
"Maybe sometime. We'll see."  
  
"I'll see you later. I love you, Fred."  
  
"I love you too, Angel."  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
After about an hour of excessive primping and five different outfit changes, Angel was finally ready to leave the house. He wore one of his all-time favorite outfits that Will had bought him on his twentieth birthday. It was a white leotard with one yellow sleeve and one orange sleeve. Over it, he wore a small green zip-up tank top with a leopard fuzz collar. The skirt he had on had large, brightly colored flowers on it, and he paired it with his favorite black shiny heels and green tights. On his head he had a headband with fake flower that he had made himself a few years ago, back when he was still living with Lenny. The black bob wig he wore with it fit the outfit perfectly.  
  
Every time he wore the outfit, it seemed like something good happened. The last time he wore it, Queenie had surprised him with a spur- of-the-moment shopping spree where he had bought lots of new dresses and loads of glittery makeup. The time before that, Will had been in a surprisingly good mood, and he had picked Angel up at the club and took him out to dinner at Spring Gardens, his favorite restaurant. He was hoping that the good luck tradition with the outfit would continue tonight, as he smoothed his wig down one last time and left the house.  
  
It was unusually warm from the early June night, and he was very comfortable in the clothes he had on. Usually, he was freezing. Dresses and tights didn't provide very much in the way of warmth. With the Life Support building in sight, Angel breathed a peaceful sigh as he continued to talk to his destination. In the alley just before the building, he heard people arguing.  
  
"Hey chica. You lookin' hot tonight, baby!"  
  
"Fuck off. Leave me alone."  
  
"What a-matter, baby, you don't like guys?"  
  
"I like guys, just not you!" a snappy, female voice quipped at the man, who sounded older than she did.  
  
Thinking that he should go and help, Angel hesitated slightly, remembering the last time he tried to help someone being harassed by a stranger on the street. The results from that was the reason why he was in this neighborhood in the first place. He glanced down the alley and saw a small girl with wild curly cursing at the large, overweight skinhead in Spanish.  
  
"Come on, baby, you know you want to," he coaxed.  
  
"Bastardo," she mumbled under her breath, attempting to walk away.  
  
"Yo, bitch, I was talking to you!" he said much sterner now, grabbing her arm.  
  
Angel knew it was time to intervene. Hearing the heels of his shoes click in the alley as he walked, Angel approached the two of them abruptly.  
  
"Is there a problem here?" he questioned, his voice sounding high and feminine, but still considerably deeper than the average female.  
  
"Oh look. A little faggot in a dress. How cute," he mumbled, pushing the Spanish girl up against the way.  
  
"I didn't ask you what you thought o my outfit, I asked if there was a problem here," Angel snapped, standing with his arms across his chest and his hip sticking out.  
  
"Listen, bitch, just leave. Me and her got our own business to attend to."  
  
"From the look of things, darling, it seems as though you're running a one-man business, and she does not look too interested your product." The girl giggled as Angel was speaking.  
  
"Oh you asked for it, faggot," the skinhead grumbled coming towards Angel. Calmly, Angel kicked him squarely in his package, four inch heels and all, watching the bald, overweight man keel over in pain.  
  
"Honey, I am more of a man than you'll ever be, and more of a woman than you'll ever get." He giggled, watching the man writhe in pain.  
  
"Bitch," he mumbled under his breath.  
  
Angel looked down at him one more time, before turning to the Spanish girl, standing up against the wall with a giant smirk on her face.  
  
"Hey, you okay?" he asked her.  
  
"I'm fine. I'm used to it, actually, it happens a lot," she responded, brushing a curly lock of hair out of her face.  
  
"You sure?" he prodded, coming towards her.  
  
"You know, now that you mention it, maybe I'd better sit down for a bit."  
  
"Alright, come here," he said, draping his arm around her shoulders.  
  
Gripping onto his waist, the girl leaned into him.  
  
"I'm Angel, by the way."  
  
"You can call me Mimi," the girl said, holding Angel tightly.  
  
"Mimi? Is that your real name?"  
  
"No, but that's what everyone calls me."  
  
"What's your real name, then?"  
  
"That is for another place and another time. So, Angel. I take it your Hispanic, then?" she asked, changing the subject.  
  
"Yes. Finally, somebody who realizes that Angel is indeed my real name," Angel said, relieved.  
  
"Hey, it's part of la cultura hispanica, right?" she asked, her Spanish accent perfected.  
  
"Absolutely. God, it's been so long since I've heard someone speak Spanish," he said as they continued to walk towards the Life Support building. "I mean, the last time was -."  
  
A beeper going off interrupted their talking. They let go of each other, and stared one another down.  
  
"Do you -?" he asked, his eyes showing both confusion and hope.  
  
"HIV," she replied quietly, as she uncapped a bottle of white pills. "Time for an AZT break."  
  
"I have it too," Angel replied, bewildered. "I was just heading to Life Support now, have you heard of it?"  
  
"Yeah, but I've never been. I usually work late nights at the club, and I've never had time. I've never known anybody who goes there, either."  
  
"Would you like to come with me?" Angel asked, his arm going back to its position around her shoulder.  
  
"I'd really like that," she replied quietly, placing her arm around Angel's waist once again. "I have a feeling we're gonna end up being really good friends, Angel."  
  
"Me too," he replied.  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
"Welcome Angel!" Paul greeted as Angel and Mimi walked into the room. "I see you've brought someone with you. What's your name?"  
  
"You can call me Mimi," she said, holding onto Angel's hand and gripping it so tightly his fingers were beginning to turn purple.  
  
"It's nice to meet you, Mimi. Come in and join us. We're just beginning."  
  
Angel and Mimi sat next to each other, still holding hands, as the meeting began.  
  
"First of all, before we continue our affirmation, I just wanted to thank you all again for coming to Sue's memorial. I know it meant a lot to me, and she would feel very honored to know that all of you were there. She'll be in our hearts and memories forever, and her message will live on within all of us." The group nodded somberly as they sat in silence.  
  
"I'd like to start," Angel said, quietly. The group stared at him in shock. He'd never spoken at the group meetings.  
  
"Way to go, Ang," Rae said, smiling at him.  
  
Angel grinned, shyly, back at the group as he began to talk. "I didn't even want to come to these meetings in the first place. I really felt like I was the only one in the world who had HIV, and that nobody understood what I was going through. I didn't get it like a lot of people, though. Everyone assumes that because I'm some gay girly-boy, I got it through having a lot of sex with lots of different men. Now, granted I've been around the block -." This elicited some giggles from the group "but that's not how I got it. I got raped back in March, by my ex-boyfriend's drug dealer. It's a long, painful story, and I'm not gonna tell you all about it now, but I will tell you that it's made me appreciate everything so much more. My life has so much more meaning now. I can't say that I'm happy that I have HIV, but it's definitely turned me around."  
  
The group smiled at him, slightly surprised at his openness. "Ang, that was beautiful. Thank you so much for sharing with us," Sherri said quietly, while leaning up against Rae.  
  
Blushing slightly, Angel accepted the compliment. For the rest of the meeting, he sat back quietly and listened to others intently, as he usually did. Mimi sat next to him, not saying a word, picking at her nails and doing everything in her power to avoid eye contact with all the people at the meeting. The time flew by, as Paul looked as watch, his eyes bulging as he realized what time it was.  
  
"You guys, we've been here for about three hours, so I'd like to wrap this up. Sorry to cut you off, Pam, but I think everyone's gotta get going."  
  
"That's okay, Paul, don't worry about it," Pam said quietly, slumping back down in her seat.  
  
"Thanks to all of you for coming tonight, and a special thanks to Mimi for joining our group. We hope to be seeing you quite a bit at these little meetings of ours. All right everyone, group hug!" Paul announced as everyone rose from their chairs and gathered in the center of the circle, hugging each and every person tightly. When the embraces ceased, Paul unlocked the door the apartment, letting everyone out. "Remember," he called after then, "No Day But Today."  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
Angel walked outside, holding Mimi's hand. "I'm sorry that took so long," he apologized, "They're usually only about an hour."  
  
"Hey, it's okay, don't worry about it. I just had to get out of there and have a smoke. I was dying!" She exclaimed, as she reached into the waistband of her pants and pulled out a cigarette. "Got a light?"  
  
"No, sorry, I don't things like that," Angel mumbled, as she approached a woman walking by who had a lighter in her hand.  
  
"It's very relaxing," she explained, as she took a puff of her cigarette.  
  
"How old are you, honey?" he asked, looking skeptically at her. He could see that she wasn't over 20; her skin was wrinkle-free and her deep, brown eyes were wide with an innocence he hadn't seen in anyone since he was with Lenny.  
  
"I'm seventeen, but I'm old for my age," she said, tossing her brown curls behind her shoulder, as an attempt to look more sophisticated. "What about you, chica?"  
  
"I'm almost 21. You know, Mimi, you really shouldn't be smoking at such a young age: it isn't good for you," Angel explained, acting like a concerned parent.  
  
"You think smoking's bad? You don't even wanna know what else I do. But I don't need a lecture from some underage drag queen, alright?" Mimi snapped at him, taking another puff of her cigarette.  
  
"Hey hey," Angel said, his eyes narrowing slightly, "No need to get an attitude."  
  
Looking towards the ground and putting her cigarette out, Mimi cracked her knuckles. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to be rude. It's just that I get lectures like that from everyone. I mean, even my boyfriend tries to lecture me about what I'm doing. It's completely my choice, and I don't need people telling me what to do. My parents tried that, and I ran away as fast as I could. I don't like rules, and I don't like people who try to make them."  
  
"Wow, honey, you are fierce," Angel stated, smiling as he put his arm around her shoulder. "I like it. So tell me about this boy of yours. Is he cute?"  
  
Mimi giggled as she and Angel began to walk away from the Life Support building. "Yeah, he is. He's really cute. His name's Chase, and I've been living with him for almost a year. He's a really great guy, and he's so supportive of me. After I had the miscarriage, we started dating and he's been there for me ever since."  
  
"You had a miscarriage?" Angel asked, shocked.  
  
"Yeah, when I was 16. I got HIV from that guy who got me pregnant. He was a real jackass. He told me after we'd slept together that he might be infected. I hate him so much for giving this to me. I'm glad I didn't have that kid, though, because then he'd have to pay child support and everything, and I just don't like the guy, so it's good that I don't have to deal with him. Chase is positive too, though. He's bisexual and his boyfriend gave it to him, or so he thinks. I made him get tested before we got involved, so we knew there was no risk. You should meet him sometime, he's really sweet."  
  
"Wow, you've been through a lot for someone so young. My life hasn't been cake either, but when I was 17, it was smooth sailing compared to the last year," Angel said, more to himself than to her.  
  
"Do you wanna tell me about it?" she questioned, guiding Angel towards a large building on the corner of 11th street and avenue B.  
  
"I think we'll save that for another time and another place," Angel laughed, reaching up and touching his false hair, realizing that his flower headband was missing. "Shit!"  
  
"What's wrong?" Mimi asked, as they stopped in front of the building.  
  
"I think I left my headband at the Life support meeting. I love that thing. I should probably go back and get it. Is this your apartment?"  
  
"Yeah, I'm on the first floor. I'll be fine. Thanks for taking me out, Angel, I really appreciate it. Ooh!" she squealed, as she remembered something, "I want to give you my phone number. Call me whenever you're free, and we'll go out somewhere. Just come in with me for a minute and I'll write it down for you."  
  
"I actually have a pen right here," Angel mumbled, as he shuffled through the tiny, glittery purse and pulled out a small, checkbook pen. "Write it on my hand. It'll be the first girl's number I've ever gotten. It's a special occasion, honey."  
  
Giggling again, Mimi wrote her phone number neatly on the top of Angel's hand. She gave him back the pen, and hugged him tightly. "I'm really glad I met you."  
  
"Glad I met you too, Mimi. I'll call you, I promise."  
  
"Bye," she called, as she walked briskly into her building.  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
Ever since the rape, Angel hated walking alone in the city at night. He was paranoid that, somewhere, he'd see Chad and live the whole nightmare over again. Crossing his arms over his chest, he continued walking the few blocks back to Paul's apartment where the Life Support meetings were held. He felt guilty bothering Paul this late at night, but that headband had special sentimental value to him, and he wouldn't be able to sleep tonight unless he knew it was safe in his bedroom.  
  
Knocking lightly on Paul's door, Angel stood with his hands gripping his arms, trying to stay warm. Even though it was early June, the nights were still quite chilly, and, as usual, Angel wasn't dressed appropriately for the weather.  
  
Answering the door in a pair of faded flannel pants and big grey sweatshirt, Paul smiled brilliantly as he saw Angel at the door. "What are you doing here so late?" Paul questioned.  
  
"I left something here. I'm so sorry to bother you, but it really means a lot to me and I -,"  
  
Paul handed him the headband, laden with fake pink flowers. "I figured it was yours. Nobody else in our group wears accessories quite like this."  
  
Angel giggled as he took the headband back and put it around his wrist. "Thank you so much, and I'm so sorry to be bothering you this late."  
  
"No no, it's okay, don't worry about it!" Paul exclaimed, opening the door further. "Come in, sit down, have some coffee or something."  
  
"I really should get back home. Queenie and Fred are probably worried sick," he mumbled to himself.  
  
"Who's Queenie and Fred?" Paul questioned, as he motioned for Angel to come in and sit down.  
  
Accepting the invitation, he walked inside and sat in a rickety wooden chair. "They're my, well, hmm." Angel pondered, not knowing quite how to explain his relationship with the two of them. "They're like the parents I never had."  
  
"So, technically, you still live with your parents?"  
  
Blushing at the thought of a 21 year old still living with his parents, Angel smiled shyly, and answered, "Yes, I guess so."  
  
"That simply won't do," Paul stated, shaking his head.  
  
"What do you mean?"  
  
"Well, I can't have you living with your parents anymore. Not at your age. I've got plenty of space here. Why don't you crash at my place until you can find one of your own?"  
  
Shocked at the offer, Angel raised his eyebrows and looked straight at Paul. "Are you serious?"  
  
"Yeah, I've done it for plenty of the other Life Support members. I'll help you find a job and your own apartment, and I'll get you back on your feet. I've known so many people who have had a lot of trouble getting their life back on track after diagnosis, and I've helped them as much as I can. Keep in mind, though, this is not a permanent residence. I want you to live your own life in your own place. It's very liberating."  
  
"Oh my god, I don't even know what to say to that. I'm so flattered. I'll have to talk to Queenie and Fred about it, but that's such a nice thing of you to do. I'll pay you rent and everything, I promise. I've never been on my own paying rent before. I feel so." Angel paused, breathing in a deep sigh, "free."  
  
"That's the way it should be," Paul explained, his dazzling smile lighting up the room. "You let me know tomorrow at Life Support what the deal is, and we'll work something out."  
  
"Paul, thank you so much," Angel said, hugging him tightly as he got up to go home. "You're such a big help to me in every way."  
  
"It's no problem, Ang, I'm glad to be of service. See you tomorrow." Paul said, closing the door behind Angel.  
  
After he left the apartment, Angel walked with a slight spring in his step. The fact that he would be living semi-on his own was very liberating. He felt free and alive, a refreshing sensation. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 


	37. Chapter 36: Independent

Chapter 36: Independent  
Angel walked into the club, wandering back to Queenie and Fred's room. Opening the door without knocking, he entered to see Queenie and Fred, both topless, groping each other intensely.  
  
"Jesus!" he exclaimed, as the two of them scrambled, as usual, to get dressed as fast as possible. "I need to get out of here," he thought to himself, turning away from the couple.  
  
"Angel. I'm sorry," Fred apologized, sheepishly, as he stood up, brushing off his clothes.  
  
"It's okay. But, I needed to talk to you both about something right away," Angel said, in a serious tone, pulling on his green zip-up tank top as he spoke.  
  
"Is everything alright?" Queenie questioned with concern.  
  
Smiling, Angel continued, "Yes, everything's fine. I've actually got some good news, for once," he giggled, "I went back to Paul's tonight after life support because I left something there, and we started talking. I was explaining my living situation and everything. You know, I just mentioned you guys and talked about how you were probably worried that I wasn't home yet." He paused, looking at both of them. "Although, I'm beginning to re- think that part right about now."  
  
The couple blushed furiously as Angel continued to speak. "So, anyway, the bottom line is that Paul offered me a place to crash. He said I needed to be more independent, and that he would help me find a place to live on my own, and he'd find me a job and stuff."  
  
Ang, you've got a perfectly good home here, and a great job. I thought you liked working at the club," Queenie said, looking slightly hurt.  
  
Immediately, Angel felt guilty. He didn't want to make either of them feel bad. They were, and always had been, his family, and he didn't want to do anything that would make them upset. "I know I do, but I'll be 22 in like 2 weeks. I really need to get out on my own. I need to be independent."  
  
Still seeming upset, Queenie looked at Fred, who had a proud smile on his face. "I was wondering when you'd want the independence. You do need to be out on your own, and I fully support your decision."  
  
Angel was shocked. "I really thought you would put up an argument. I mean, when I wanted to go and live with Will, you were both so against it."  
  
"Ang, you were nineteen. That was almost three years ago. You've grown up so much, and you're really ready to be on your own. You need to make a life of your own outside the club," Fred explained.  
  
Agreeing, Queenie said, "He's right, baby. We will always be here for you whenever you need us. I feel like I say that all the time, but it's true. You go off with this guy, and you have fun. Build a life for yourself, and start something new. You deserve it."  
  
Beaming, Angel replied, "Thank you guys so much. I really mean that."  
  
"We'll help you move as soon as you want," Fred said, as Angel began to leave the room. It was late, and he was tired, yet he was buzzing with exhilaration. A new chapter of his life was about to begin.  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
The next morning, Angel awoke surprisingly early. On days where he didn't have to work, he rarely woke up before 12. Today, however, he was up at 9, ready to pack up his belongings. Bags and bags that held piles of sparkly dresses were displayed all over the floor of his small bedroom. He had decided that the best packing method would be to arrange the wardrobe by season, and then by color. Wigs were spread out around the carpet floor, as well as various tubes of lipstick, eye shadow, and tons of pictures from over the years.  
  
It was hard to believe that today would be his lat day waking up in the club with Queenie and Fred. Moving didn't feel this final when he moved in with Will. That was, possibly, because he knew deep down that it wouldn't be permanent. He had loved Will, but the love wasn't that deep, rest-of-your-life kind of love. He knew it all along, but refused to admit to himself.  
  
Taking each picture and placing them back in a large envelope, already bursting at the seams with photographs, he reminisced about each one. There was a photo of him and Will outside Model Boy, after they'd been together for only a few weeks. Will was holding Angel in his arms, smiling widely and brightly. "That was a long time ago," Angel whispered, sticking the photograph back in the envelope.  
  
Another picture showed Angel and Queenie in Dancing Queen, posing with Tiff in some fabulous new dresses. Angel looked very young in the picture: He couldn't have been any older than 18. He still looked younger than 22, but his face possessed a child-like innocence back then. "And I thought life was tough then." he mumbled, placing that photo behind the one of him and Will.  
  
Each photo told a story about Angel's past, all of them creating a stack of memories from his life since he'd lived with Queenie. The last picture in the stack, however, was much older, and more worn looking. It wasn't on the same high-quality photo paper as the rest of the pictures were. This photograph was slightly yellowed, the corners curling up a bit. He knew immediately which picture it was, as he could barely bring himself to look at it.  
  
The bright, happy 14 year old Angel smiled up at the 22 year old drag queen. He was wearing a worn flannel shirt and tight blue jeans, with brand new, white sneakers. "The fashions of the late 80's," Angel mumbled, shuddering as he continued to study the picture further. Papi was standing next to him in a masculine button-up plaid shirt and deep green pants. Timberland hiking boots covered his feet, and he held a hiking stick in one hand, the other arm placed possessively around his wife. Mami stood smiling shyly next to him, her beautiful black hair blowing in the wind. Even she was dressed casual on that day, as the 3 of them had hiked up a mountain in Peru that morning. She had a black tunic on and a pair of faded, light blue jeans. She wore a pair of exercise sneakers. Both of her arms were occupied: One loosely around her husband's waist, and the other squeezing her young son's shoulders.  
  
Tears dripped from his long eyelashes onto the picture, making tiny water spots on the blue sky. He hadn't even looked at this picture since the day he packed up and left his home that cold, winter night in February when he was 16 years old.  
  
"I miss her," he whispered, hugging the picture closely to his chest. "Mami," he continued, "I hope you're proud of me. I hope I've made you proud to be my mother."  
  
Looking at the picture on time, he stuck it back in the envelope and shut his eyes. He'd been through a whole lot since that picture was taken. He hadn't even truly realized how much his life has changed since then. Mami was dead; Papi was out of the picture, and long gone; he had new "parents" who loved him more than anything; he had been married; he had gotten AIDS, and now, he was about to move out on his own. He really was growing up.  
  
"It's been an interesting 6 years," he said to himself, as he continued to pack.  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
The clock finally struck eleven, and Angel jumped up to call Paul. He figured that calling any earlier would be rude.  
  
"Good morning!" Paul chirped into the phone. Angel could almost hear the smile his voice.  
  
"Paul? Hey, it's Angel."  
  
"Hello, Angel. How are you?" he asked, his voice still bright and cheery.  
  
"I'm alright, I just need to ask you something."  
  
"Sure, what's up?"  
  
"Um, I talked to Queenie and Fred last night, and they're letting me move out. I just wanted to make sure that it really is okay for me to stay with you. I don't want to be an inconvenience, you know? And -"  
  
"Angel, if I didn't want you here I wouldn't have asked," Paul stated.  
  
Blushing slightly, Angel responded, "Yeah, I guess you're right. When can I start bringing my stuff over?"  
  
"I'll be here all day, so come and go as you like. But first, I'd like to tell you something."  
  
"Okay, sure," he replied, curious and confused.  
  
"I was taking my morning stroll today, and I walked by this makeup store. Mac, I think it was called? Anyway, they had a help wanted sign in the window, so I went in and asked them about it. Bottom line is you have a job interview at Mac tonight at 6, right before they close."  
  
"You got me an interview?" Angel questioned, astonished.  
  
"I told you I was going to get you back on your feet. I wasn't just saying that. I figured a job at a makeup counter would be perfect for somebody like you. The hours aren't bad, and it pays well, so I hear."  
  
"It sounds great. Oh my god, Paul, thank you so much! Queenie and Fred are gonna be so excited!" he squealed, 'Wow, this is great!"  
  
"Good, I thought you'd be excited. So, after Life Support tonight, we'll go out and eat or something. Celebrate my getting a new room mater, and your, hopefully, new job."  
  
"Thank you so much, Paul, I'll be over soon."  
  
"It's no problem. I'll see ya," he said, as Angel heard the phone click as he hung up.  
  
"For the first time in a long time, I have something to look forward to," Angel whispered, as he continued to pack the past 6 years away in cardboard boxes.  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
"Good morning Angel!" Queenie called into the bedroom, with Angel sitting in the center of the room, surrounded by filled cardboard boxes and plastic garment bags that glittered with dresses. He turned around to greet her, and realized that she wasn't wearing any makeup. In fact, she wasn't even wearing a dress. She had on baggy flannel pants and a fitted white tank top. Short, black hair, similar to Angel's, spiked up around her head. He didn't realize how dark her eyes were until all the makeup was off. She looked so different: almost masculine.  
  
"I don't think I've ever seen you out of drag," he said quietly to her, shocked.  
  
"Oh yeah. Come to think of it, I don't think you have either. It isn't a big deal, really. I don't sleep with wigs and makeup on. I haven't done myself up yet, that's all. But, I just came in to tell you that Tiff said she'd help us drive your stuff over whenever you were ready, which it seems like you are. Just let me know when you're packed, and we'll head over," she said, calmly. Her voice was still high and feminine, but it was strange to hear it coming from a man's body.  
  
"Okay," he answered quietly. Pausing, he took a deep breath and then continued, "I'm really gonna miss you, Queenie. It's not gonna be the same without you."  
  
"Honey, I know it'll be different, but life will go on, I promise. It's time for you to get out on your own, and it's a perfect present for your 22nd birthday. I know you're ready now. With Will, you weren't, and that's where my reservations came from. Since you've broken it off with him, you've grown so much, and I think that the only way for you to mature even more is to live on your own. I think it goes without saying, but you know that Freddie and I are always here for you. We want you to be happy."  
  
It was hard for Angel to listen, because he couldn't stop staring at her. She was so striking without the drag on. She still looked exotic: her deep almond eyes warmed with love, her tan cheeks tinged with pink, and her black glossy hair spiked up around her head. She was radiant without the dresses, wigs, and makeup. Angel was surprised. "I know. I love you guys," he said, sincerely, then paused for a minute. "God, it's so weird to see you without all that stuff on."  
  
"Angel, baby, it's still me," she reassured him, placing a hand on his shoulder as she had so many times before.  
  
"I know, I know, but you're like my mom, right? And when mommy looks like a man, it's weird," he giggled.  
  
She laughed loudly along with him, "Let me know when you're ready, Ang, and we'll head out." She smiled and closed the door behind her.  
  
Still shocked, Angel continued to pack his belongings. He knew it was time for him to move on to the next phase of his life.  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
At exactly 4:53 P.M on June 6th, 1996, according to the glowing digital clock in Tiff's car, all of Angel's belongings were successfully moved into the extra bedroom in Paul's apartment. Queenie and Fred had said tearful goodbyes, and the next stage of Angel's life had begun. Sitting in the center of the tiny bedroom, he began to unpack the boxes of various belongings, mostly clothes and shoes. Looking around, he realized that there probably wouldn't be enough room for all of his clothes in the small wardrobe closet and dresser drawers he was given. Angel was never one to complain, or to wish for things he didn't have, for that matter, but when it came to his clothes, everything had to be perfect.  
  
"Paul," he called out into the bedroom across from his, "Can I talk to you for a minute?"  
  
"Sure," Paul responded, coming into the room, nearly tripping and killing himself on a plastic garment bag.  
  
"Now I'm not one to complain," he began, "but I have a rather large wardrobe, and no intentions of narrowing it down. So I was wondering if, you know, there would be any way that I could get some, uh, extra storage space?" he asked, feeling slightly guilty.  
  
Paul giggled in response. "I figured you'd have a rather large wardrobe. There's an extra wardrobe closet in the living room, actually, so you can use that. I used to have it in my room, but it seems as though my clothing collection is pathetically small."  
  
Angel laughed along with him. "By the time I'm done here, you will have more clothes, I guarantee it." He continued to unpack the dresses, hanging each one neatly inside the chest in his room, and the one in the living room. He never realized how truly extensive his wardrobe was. After what seemed like hours of packing, Paul came into the bedroom to inform him of the time.  
  
"Ang, it's 5:30, you need to get to your interview at the makeup store."  
  
"Oh my god, I totally forgot about that!" Angel exclaimed, getting up off the ground and dusting off his clothes. His clothes were slightly rumpled, and he had no makeup on. Hardly looking the part of a makeup counter employee, he knew he had to change. "10 minutes, that's all I'll need, and then we can go, I promise."  
  
"Okay, but I don't want you to be late. You need to make a good first impression."  
  
"I know, I know. 10 minutes, I swear," he said, then quickly shuffled through his wardrobe to find a suitable dress to wear.  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
Angel had never gotten ready so quickly. Usually, he took 30 minutes, minimum. Getting ready in 10 was definitely a personal best. He and Paul arrived at the store just as the sparkly watch on Angel's wrist read 6:00. "Perfect timing," Angel stated, as they walked in.  
  
Pounding techno music shook the small store, and both men could feel the music pulsating through their bodies. A petite, young woman with spiky purple hair approached them. Heavy black eyeliner rimmed her blue eyes as she extended her hand to introduce herself. "Hi, I'm Melanie. Let me guess, you must be Angel." She pointed to the drag queen, who smiled and nodded at her. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Angel. And you're Paul, the one my assistant manager spoke to this morning." He nodded and shook her hand as well. "It's nice to meet both of you. We just closed for the day, so let me turn down this ridiculous music and lock the doors."  
  
Immediately, the pulsing music was turned down to a much more tolerable level. "Sorry about that," Melanie continued, "My employees keep saying that this is the new wave of music, and they insist on playing it. It's not too bad since I'm in the back most of the time anyway." She smiled as the three of them enjoyed the peacefulness of the quieter music. "So, Angel, I guess we should get this interview under way, huh?"  
  
"Yeah, that sounds good."  
  
"Do you have any work experience?"  
  
"Um, I performed at a club for six years," he replied, quietly.  
  
"What kind of club, and what did you do?" she asked, sounding genuinely interested.  
  
"It's a drag club. I sang and danced. And I love to play the drums, too. I used to do it as a hobby, but not so much anymore."  
  
"That's neat, Angel. So you say you worked at a drag club. Did you do your own makeup, or did someone help you?"  
  
"At first, I had some help, but after a few months I did it all on my own. I even started doing makeup for this other queen, Dolly. She totally did not know how to work the pink lipstick with dark liner. It's one of those looks that you really need to have the right face to pull off, and her lips were all wrong. It didn't look good with her eye color either. I fixed her up real good. I got compliments for how well I did the makeup on some of the other queens, and how I played up their features just right," he explained, remembering a time not so long ago when, right about now, he'd be helping all the drag queens at the club prepare for the night's show.  
  
"Wow, okay, it sounds like you really know what you're talking about when it comes to makeup. Paul told my assistant manager that you were good. Anyway, we're really understaffed here, so I'll tell you what I'm going to do. I'm gonna hire you, but for the first two weeks it'll be like a trial job. I'll have you shadow one of the more experienced employees, and they'll help you learn the ropes. If all goes well, you'll become a full-time employee in no time," Melanie explained.  
  
Smiling ear to ear, Angel shook her hand. "Thank you so much. I can't wait to start working."  
  
"good, I'm glad you're so enthusiastic. We'll go over store policy, dress codes, pay, and -."  
  
"Whoa whoa whoa," Angel interrupted, "Dress codes? What do you mean?"  
  
"Nothing really strict. We like to look dressy-casual, if you know what I mean. Dresses are fine," she smiled, looking him up and down, noting his sparkling pink, iridescent mini-dress he was wearing, "Just don't go too over the top. No jeans and sneakers either."  
  
Angel giggled, "I'll try my best. Thanks again, and I'll see you tomorrow."  
  
"Bye Angel. Bye Paul," Melanie called after them as they exited the store.  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
"Congratulations Angel!" Paul cried, embracing him tightly, "I knew you'd get that job. It's perfect for you."  
  
"Thanks, honey. I'm so excited to finally have a job o my own. Besides the club, I've never worked anywhere before. The club was different, though."  
  
"I'm so proud of you. Let's go out and celebrate!"  
  
"Where should we go?" Angel questioned, as they walked down the crumbling concrete sidewalks, the sun setting behind them.  
  
"The Life Café. It's only a block or 2 from here, anyway," Paul informed him.  
  
"I've never been there before."  
  
"You have never been to the Life? Angel, you've lived in the village for almost 6 years and you've never been to the Life? You haven't lived!" Paul exclaimed, as his eyes went wide with surprise.  
  
"It must be good. What kind of food do they have?" Angel asked, praying that they'd have something reasonably healthy there.  
  
"A little bit of everything. Some organic stuff, some Italian pasta, Barbeque stuff. You'll be able to find something there, I promise."  
  
"Hmm, organic sounds good," Angel said, mostly to himself, thinking about pasta with pesto and soy meatballs. He could really go for some of that right now. "Have you ever been to Spring Gardens?"  
  
"I think I've heard of it. It's that little organic place, right? Really cheap?"  
  
"Not cheap. Inexpensive," Angel pointed out, firmly, "You really need to go there sometime, the food's amazing."  
  
"Next time we go out for dinner, we'll go there. But tonight, we go to the Life. You'll like it," Paul promised, as they approached a brick building on the street corner. "Here we are!"  
  
The door was thick and wooden, looking old, as if it had been on those hinges for hundreds of years. There were two small steps leading up to it, and Angel and Paul walked up carefully. They weren't really paying attention to where they were going as the large, oak door swung open, and a man walked outside, colliding into Angel.  
  
Angel stumbled slightly, then knocked into the railing next to him. The man looked over and made eye contact with Angel. His amber eyes bugged out of his head as he saw the tall, handsome figure standing before him. The man was solid, not fat by any means, but he looked strong. A large, brown leather trench coat draped over his body, as a nest of long, light brown dreadlocks fell down past his shoulders, spreading out along the collar of his coat. The warmest, deepest brown eyes he'd ever seen looked at him as well, as the man blushed slightly. His eyes showed an emotion that Angel couldn't exactly pick up on: fear, embarrassment, confusion?  
  
"Hey, I'm sorry. I guess I didn't see you," he mumbled. His deep voice had a sexy quality to it, and Angel's heart melted. This man was, by far, the most attractive thing he'd ever seen.  
  
"That's - that's okay," he responded, looking past the man to notice another man, a skinny little twig-like guy hanging off of him.  
  
The couple walked away, the skinny boy laughing as he held onto the tall, dark, handsome man. Sexy dreadlocks guy walked along with him, looking back at Angel one more time, before he faded into the darkness of the New York City night.  
  
Paul looked over at Angel, raising an eyebrow. "He's cute," Paul said.  
  
"Cute does not even begin to describe him. That is the most attractive man I've ever seen. He's not, you know, you're standard hot guy, though. There's something about him."  
  
"Ang, he's just a guy. You'll see a million "not standard" cute guys in New York City. I'd know, I've seen my fair share," Paul explained.  
  
"Yeah, you're right. I'm just used to pretty boys and drag queens, that's all."  
  
"2 for dinner?" the hostess interrupted.  
  
"Yeah," Angel responded, slightly distracted.  
  
"Right this way," she said, guiding them to a small round, worn, wooden table. "Enjoy."  
  
"Thank you," Paul responded.  
  
The 2 of them looked over the menu, and almost immediately, Angel found something that sounded good: the Tofu Dog Platter. They ordered quickly, and the waitress left them alone to wait for the food.  
  
"So tell me about yourself, Angel."  
  
He laughed. "What do you wanna know?"  
  
"Anything. We're gonna be living together now, and I want to get to know my room mate."  
  
"Okay, where to start?"  
  
"Tell me about this ex that you've been mentioning at Life Support."  
  
"Okay. His name is William Dumott, and that's where I got the Dumott in Dumott-Schunard from. We were married, sort of," Angel explained, blushing slightly. He always got a little embarrassed and bashful when he talked about his marriage to Will.  
  
"So you're married, huh. I never would have known that. Why did you guys break up?"  
  
The smile and warmth on his face immediately disappeared. "It's kind of involved. But I'll tell you anyway. He used to own this store, Model Boy, and he and I worked there until it went out of business. We were really tight on money, and I had to back to working at the club full-time, but it wasn't enough money. He got a job as a "salesman," which, as I found out later, was his cover up for dealing. He started selling drugs, and then he got into drugs himself. He became kind of abusive, and I didn't know what to do. One night, I realized I had to confront him about what was going on, and I did. But I kind of did it in the wrong way. I threw out all his heroin, and he got really mad. Like, way angrier than I'd ever seen him before, and he beat me up really bad. I went to the hospital, and that was the end of our relationship. It kinda sucks that it had to end that way, because up until about the last 5 months, we had the best relationship I could ever ask for."  
  
"Oh my god," Paul said, quietly, "I had no idea you'd been through so much."  
  
"It's okay. Most people don't' realize it. But Will's not a bad guy. I had to go back to his place a couple of months after we broke up to get some of my things, and on my way I ran into Will and his dealer. I guess Will owed him money, and he didn't have it, so the dealer told Will that I would pay instead. And then he. you know, and that's how I got HIV. Will was with me every step of the way though. He took care of me, and he went with me everywhere I had to go. He's in rehab now, trying to quit heroin. I haven't spoken to him since he left."  
  
"He isn't a bad guy, you're right. You sound so. sad when you talk about him."  
  
"I'm not sad about the fact that we're not together anymore. It took me 3 years to realize that he and I weren't meant to be. I mean, I loved him, but it wasn't that kind of love that makes you want to be a better person. He didn't make me whole," Angel explained, stirring the lemon around in his ice water.  
  
"I'm not so sure I understand."  
  
"It's stupid, really. I'm such a sap. I sit here and I dream of falling in love. Like, fairy tale kind of love, with a prince charming and some guy who completes me. I just feel. empty. I want that feeling that comes deep inside of your heart, you know? I want to meet someone who completes me: who really is my other half."  
  
"That's deep, Ang," Paul responded.  
  
Angel giggled to lighten the mood. "Yeah, it does sound deep. For right now, though, I'm content with not having that, I guess. I mean, I have to be. And I also have to realize that I'm probably not gonna find that. Most people don't meet their soul mate, so who's to say I will? I'm enjoying life right now, and that's all that matters."  
  
"You never know who you're gonna meet. Maybe it's someone you've met already."  
  
"You're right. You really never know," Angel replied, just as his dinner was placed in front of him. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ A/N: Whee! Foreshadowing. Sorry this took me so long to get up, but I've been working damn hard on it. PLEASE R/R, make me happy! Coming up next: Angel and Mimi go to an "end of the summer" social with other AIDS support groups in the area... Lots of guys = Angel having lots of fun ( hehehe. ENJOY! 


	38. Chapter 37: Contact

Chapter 37: Contact  
  
"I don't know, it seems a bit too. overdone, don't you think?"  
  
"Not at all, honey! Look at me. I know my makeup, and I know this looks good on you. I would never steer you in the wrong direction. It's bold, but it makes your lips look so much fuller. Just trust me on this one."  
  
"Well, I guess. I'm not used to anything to wearing anything this. exotic, that's all," the customer said, examining her bold, shiny red lips in the mirror. Her makeup was bland, boring and traditional before Angel got to her. Now, she looked much better in Angel's opinion.  
  
"It looks amazing. All you do is get this," he said, handing her a tube of red lipstick, "and put on some of this," he handed her a clear tube of gloss, "every couple of hours."  
  
"Thanks. Wow, you really know what you're talking about."  
  
"I told you. Us queens know what we're doing. Well, most of us, anyway," he laughed, "Anything else I can help you with today?"  
  
"Nope, I think that's it. Thank you. Take care."  
  
"You too, sweetie. Come back anytime you want anything."  
  
"Will do. What's your name again?"  
  
"Angel."  
  
"Okay, Angel. I'll remember that," she said, smiling as she left the store.  
  
Angel smiled as he heard the bell on the door clink as it closed. He absolutely loved his new job. Sighing with a big grin on his face, he threw out the tissues he had used on his last customer, and looked at the clock. "6:00 on the dot," he said out loud, then proceeded back to the storage room to find Melanie.  
  
"Hey Ang!" she greeted, "How was work today? Did you have fun?"  
  
"Mel, I must tell you, the last 3 months have been so much fun. I couldn't ask for a better job. Doing makeup is what I do best!" he squealed, hugging her.  
  
"So I've heard. I've actually gotten some calls from some customers who were very happy with your help. That's never happened, in the past 3 years that I've been managing the store. It's been a pleasure having you work here, and I'm glad you're enjoying yourself. You get the whole weekend off, since its labor day, so I'll see you on Tuesday then. Have a nice weekend, by the way."  
  
"You too honey! Thanks!" Angel called, as he dashed out of the store, ready to run back to the apartment to get changed. He had fun plans tonight.  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
"Paul! What time does it start?" Angel asked, as he walked into the home, panting. He had never run so fast in heels in his entire life. He knew he would need at least an hour to get ready, if not more.  
  
"The group is meeting at 8, and then we're heading out. Will you be ready?"  
  
"I hope so. I ran home, literally. Let me tell you, honey, it is not easy to run in these shoes!" he exclaimed, pointing to the white stiletto boots he was wearing. "Where is it taking place, and who's gonna be there?"  
  
"It's just a social, dance kind of thing with 2 other AIDS support groups in the area. It's only about a block or 2 from here, in some old apartment building. Lots of dancing, music, and a whole bunch of people. The other support groups are a lot bigger than ours, from what I hear. A few friends of mine run the groups, and we've been meaning to get together for a while. It should be fun."  
  
"Definitely. I'm so excited. I'm really in the mood for some fun. Plus, Mimi said she'd come, too, so we can hang out more. I've been seeing her a lot lately, and we've been having a great time!" Angel exclaimed, retreating back to his room to pick out a suitable outfit for tonight's party.  
  
"Yeah, she's been at quite a few of the meetings. Watch out for her, though, Angel, I worry about her sometimes," Paul said, cracking his knuckles.  
  
"I worry about her too, but she's stubborn as all hell. She's not gonna listen to me, even if I do tell her to stop. But I figure if, while I'm around her, she's not doing anything bad, then that's the best I can do. She'll be there tonight, and she won't do anything that I don't approve of, I promise."  
  
"You've grown up since I met you. You make me proud to say that you're a part of Life Support."  
  
Angel grinned from ear to ear and hugged Paul. "Thank you. I really feel a lot more mature now." He looked at the watch on his wrist and his bugged out of his head. "Oh my god, I have a lot of work to do! Come in and get me before you leave."  
  
"Will do," Paul responded, and shut the door behind him.  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
"SHIT!" Angel cursed out loud, looking through his closet of "fall" clothes. He had a skimpy little denim outfit he could wear, but he wasn't in the mood for denim tonight. It was too itchy.  
  
Shuffling madly through the sparkly sea of fabric, he finally found something suitable: a black tube top, with a short, black mini skirt and knee-high boots. A shoulder length, layered blonde wig would go perfectly. This was one of the first outfits he and Will had picked out together at Dancing Queen, and it had always been one of Angel's favorites. However, it wasn't the kind of outfit that he could wear every day: it was much fancier, and better suited for clubbing, dancing, or an evening on the town. He figured that it would be perfect for the party.  
  
Placing the wig perfectly on his head, he brushed it gently, the wire bristles getting all the tangles out. His makeup was soft and feminine: light, smudged eyeliner, shimmering pink cheeks, and sheer, glossy lips. He didn't want to look like an overly made-up tramp. There were a lot of people he wanted to make a good first impression on, and there was nothing worse than going completely over-the-top.  
  
Glancing at his watch, he realized that he had approximately 5 minutes before it was time to go. He stared at his reflection in the mirror, studying himself. Sighing, he spoke out loud. "I'm not gonna waste my time waiting to fall in love. I have HIV and my days are numbered. Tonight, I am going out and partying, and I'm gonna have fun." He smiled and winked at his reflection. "You look good, girl."  
  
"Ang, time to go!" Paul called from the living room.  
  
"Yeah, Angel, don't take all day in there!" Mimi told him, from outside his door.  
  
"This will be fun," he said, as he shut off the lights and headed out with Paul and the rest of the life support group.  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
The group arrived to loud, banging music and lots of cheap, strobe lighting. Angel leaned over to Paul, just before the entered, asking, "I thought this was gonna be a social, not a rave."  
  
"It's a dance. I guess this is how they run it," Paul responded shrugging his shoulders. He opened the door, letting the crowd in as he trailed behind them.  
  
A techno remix of "Like a Prayer" blasted from the cheap speaker system as Angel and Mimi, holding hands, walked towards the dance floor. The scene was like something straight out of Club Tran, only there were more people, but less was drag queens. People bumped and grinded up next to each other; men with men, women with women, and women with men. He'd never seen such a melting pot of people blended together. He truly felt at home. Turning to Mimi, he smiled, "Ready for fun?"  
  
"You bet!" she squealed, as they parted ways to go do their own thing for the remainder of the night.  
  
Looking around, Angel stepped on the dance floor, prepared to dance on his own. He'd never doubted his dancing abilities, and he couldn't wait to be on the floor, letting the music rip through his body, feeling the beat from within him. It had been so long since he'd truly gone out dancing when he hadn't had to perform first. It was a part of his past that he really missed, and he was glad to be doing it again.  
  
His hips swayed to the beat, eyes closed, as he let the music overtake him. It took an arm around his waist to break his trance. A small transvestite who was even shorter than Angel pulled Angel's body against herself. The two danced wildly together: groping, touching, and kissing. The song ended, and the brief pause was enough for them to introduce themselves.  
  
"I'm Sheila," the drag queen told him. She looked so young: she couldn't have been over 20. She was absolutely stunning: piercing green eyes looked at Angel, rimmed with blue eye liner, and her lips lined with deep red lip liner. Stretchy, sparkling fabric hugged her small, thin body, showing off her long legs slim torso.  
  
"I'm Angel."  
  
"Angel, huh? Well, I'll save you another dance for later on," Sheila responded, and winked at him. He was thrilled. For the longest time, he'd been with only one person, and no he could truly enjoy the feeling of being a single, gay man in New York City. The possibilities were endless.  
  
Another song started up, this time one that he was unfamiliar with. Nonetheless, he still twirled around and danced as if he knew every word. Another man came up and began to dance with him. This guy was the polar opposite of Sheila, and he looked little like Will. Brown spiky hair stood up on his head and vibrant honey colored eyes stared him down as they danced, never breaking eye contact. His body pressed up against the mystery man, groping and kissing him just like Sheila. It seemed that the song ended rather quickly, but before they parted ways, the man wrote something on crinkled piece of notebook paper, and handed it to Angel. "Brock 241-8594."  
  
"Can I have yours?" he asked, his voice much higher than Angel had anticipated. He handed him another piece of wrinkled paper and a pen. Scribbling it down neatly, Angel gave him the paper and pen back, smiling at him.  
  
"Call me," Angel said, as the two parted ways.  
  
It was like that all night long: by the time the DJ announced that the even would end in about 30 minutes, Angel had exchanged about 15 phone numbers, and he was thrilled that he had so many potential dates. After wandering the dance floor for a bit, he finally found Sheila again. She waved him over and they danced again, their bodies getting even closer than before. They gazed into each other's eyes, lots in the mindless, pounding music, and in each other. The song stopped abruptly, and Sheila tugged playfully on the bottom of Angel's skirt. "Come on," she whispered.  
  
Gripping tightly onto Sheila's hand, Angel followed her to a shut door. They opened it and saw that there was a small closet that was reasonably empty. They glanced at each other, then back at the closet. "Could we.?" Sheila asked, assessing the space.  
  
"I think we could," Angel replied, pulling Sheila into the closet and shutting the door.  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
Their lips were pressed together, tongues exploring each other's mouths. Angel's tube top was already off, as was Sheila's halter top. The boots on both their feet had long since been taken off, ad the skirts were coming next. Sheila's hand traveled down the side of Angel's body, finally finding its way under his skirt.  
  
Suddenly, Angel pulled away. "I'm positive," he said, breathing heavily.  
  
"Me too," she replied, as she began to slip his skirt down his legs.  
  
"I just wanted to -."  
  
"Shut up and kiss me," Sheila whispered, as she crushed her own mouth with Angel's.  
  
his skirt was off now, and he began to slip Sheila's off, too. She began to kiss Angel down his body, moving to where the skirt once was. It felt so good, after so long, to be able to do this and not have any ties to his partner. Once he had reciprocated the favor, and the deed had been done, they would leave the closet, maybe meet a few more times, and that would be it.  
  
Angel moaned in pleasure as he and Sheila continued the act of promiscuity.  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
Sweaty, panting, and tired, the two had finally finished what they had wanted to accomplish, and were now beginning to get dressed again. Angel pulled a slip of paper out of the pocket of his skirt and ripped off a piece of it.  
  
Scrawling something quickly on the small scrap, he handed it to Sheila as he exited the storage close. "Call me sometime," he said, winking at her.  
  
"I will." ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
A/N: Hope you all enjoy this chapter. I'm really liking where everything is going, and it all seems to be falling into place. More should be up shortly, and thank you to all you loyal readers. I love you all ( 


	39. Chapter 38: Halloween: Hookups and Havoc

Chapter 38: Halloween: Hookups and Havoc.  
  
"Angel, you stupid slut!" Mimi said, hitting him playfully on the arm, "I never get to see you anymore, because all you do is go out and have sex. How many dates have you been on since labor day, like 20?"  
  
Angel giggled, "22, actually."  
  
"You're such a slut!"  
  
"Mimi, come on, I'm just have a good time. You're just jealous because your man is not keeping you satisfied!" Angel exclaimed.  
  
"Hey hey hey. I'll have you know that he keeps me very satisfied, thank you very much."  
  
"I'm just kidding, you know that," he said, putting his arm around her and leaning his head on her shoulder. "We have to go out together after the dance tonight. Paul says the dance should be crazy, though. Apparently, there's like three more groups that want to come to this one."  
  
"Yeah, more boys for you to go fuck.  
  
"That's right!" he laughed again, "But, seriously, we need to hang out. Let's get dressed up and do something fun."  
  
"Sounds great. It's Halloween, after all. We need to go all out." She paused for a minute, then it seemed as though a light went of in her head. "Oh my God!" she yelped, and slapped Angel's leg, "I have the best idea."  
  
"Jesus, that hurt," he mumbled, rubbing the handprint on his leg, "What's your idea?"  
  
"Angel and devil." Angel raised at eyebrow at her. "Oh, come on. It's cute, and you know it is. I have this really skimpy devil costume, and it's so hot. Come on, Ang, you can find something racy, we'll go to the party dressed up, and then go trick or treating really late at night and piss off some yuppie parents."  
  
"Mimi, I don't know, I'm not sure if we should go trick or treating, or go to the party dressed up, I mean -."  
  
"You'll pick up more boys that way."  
  
"Fine, I'm in."  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
"This is perfect," Angel squealed as he stood in front of the mirror, examining his outfit. He didn't even know he had such a racy piece of clothing in his wardrobe. Granted he had tiny mini skirts and midriff tops, but nothing really compared to this. He was practically naked, aside from a lot of glitter on his chest and stomach, angel wings on his back, and a pair of tiny, white spandex shorts. The "shorts," if you could even call them that, barely covered him. A small white and gold tinsel halo sat on top of a blonde wig: the same one he had worn to the Labor Day Social.  
  
All of the exposed skin was coated in glitter, and as he stepped out of his bedroom door to show Mimi his fashionable ensemble, he sparkled under the lights.  
  
"Damn girl, you look hotter than me!" Mimi exclaimed, getting up off the couch in her own racy get up. Black string tied up a red and black lace corset, paired with a pair of small, lacy shorts. They were quite a duo. "Is Life Support meeting here first?" she asked.  
  
"No, Paul said to just meet up there, since we all know where it is now," Angel explained, looking frantically around the room for something. "Shit, I need something to put a pad and paper in."  
  
"Why?" Mimi questioned, puzzled.  
  
"I need somewhere to write down phone numbers, what else?" Angel said, winked at her, then continued his search until he found a little white beaded purse. "Perfect."  
  
"Ready to go, Miss Thang?" She asked, elbowing him in the ribs.  
  
"Absolutely, babe. Let's go."  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
Similar to Labor Day, the large apartment was dark and packed with people. Cheap strobe lights barely illuminated the space, as people danced closely together, hardly any space between them.  
  
"Go have your sex, and meet me outside when this is over," Mimi yelled to Angel, as she retreated to the punch table.  
  
Angel laughed and began to scan the area, looking for new men to dance and hook up with. Everyone was dressed in lavish costumes, and Angel was glad that he was dressed up too. There is absolutely nothing worse than not being dressed properly at a party. Across the room, Angel spotted a small, adorable young guy with a playboy bunny costume. Smiling, he walked over the guy and started to dance with him.  
  
Almost immediately they were dancing right up against each other. He wasn't wearing a whole lot more than Angel, and the contact of their sweaty, bare skin against one another felt nice and sensual. As the song continued, Playboy Bunny began to kiss Angel, exploring his mouth with his tongue. Angel reciprocated, and soon they were no longer dancing, but rather engaged in a full make-out session in the middle of the dance floor. Their hands ran up and down each other's bodies, feeling the soft, smooth skin as they got even closer, as if trying to mesh their bodies into one. Bumping into another grinding couple abruptly ended their passionate kisses, leaving the two of them in an awkward pause. Angel whipped out his notebook, and handed it to the other man without saying a word. Knowing exactly what to do, he wrote down the number, smiled and winked at Angel, then disappeared into the dancing crowd.  
  
The song ended and there was nothing but golden silence for a minute. Angel sighed, breathing in the smell of the space: sweat and cologne mixed into one. This was what he enjoyed: the freedom of being detached. Still, a part of him yearned for true affection, not just mindless sex. He pushed it out of his system as he came across another man who was wearing a Superman costume. The process continued.  
  
It seemed as though Angel had been dancing, making out, and getting phone numbers for hours when, once again, the DJ announced that in 30 minutes, the social would end. His last catch of the evening was a huge, muscular hunk of a guy. He was dressed in a cowboy hat, an open suede vest with only his bare chest underneath, and a pair of tight, brown leather pants with fringe down the sides. He was huge and literally towered over Angel. He as afraid to approach him, but the cowboy came up behind him, wrapping his arms around his waist as they began to dance. The feeling of strong arms around him made Angel feel safe, as they pressed their bodies together, getting as close as they could. Angel turned around, gazing straight into his eyes. He pulled on the cowboy's hand, leading him to the storage closet where he had done the deed at last month's social.  
  
The door shut behind them, as Angel wrapped his arms around his waist. "What's your name, honey?"  
  
"Bryan. What about you?"  
  
"Angel."  
  
"Cool," he said, casually handing him a condom. "That's a nice outfit," he continued, running his hand down Angel's chest.  
  
"Thanks. You don't look too bad yourself," Angel told him, pulling playfully on the loose suede vest. He maintained eye contact as he slipped off Bryan's vest. Bryan slid the straps of Angel's wings down his shoulders, letting them flutter to the ground in a heap of iridescent white. He held Angel as he found his lips, meshing them against his own. They shut their eyes, touching each other, grabbing at one another, craving soft caresses: human contact. Still kissing passionately, Bryan unzipped his pants, removing them to reveal a small pair of briefs. Smiling at him Angel pulled down his spandex shorts. Bryan whistled as Angel held the condom in his hand. Taking it from him, Bryan got on his knees, putting the condom on him.  
  
The music seemed to increase in volume as Angel began to feel the pleasure. He moaned as his breathing began to get heavier. His heart beat to the music. "Do you think you're better off alone?"  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
Angel pulled his shorts back on, adjusting his wig and halo too. The social had been over for about 5 minutes, but it was not easy to put those shorts on. As always, Angel exchanged favors, as well as phone numbers, with him nightly fling, kissing him one more time, then leaving. Flipping through his notebook, he counted the numbers he accumulated tonight: 11. Not as many as last time, but, he enjoyed being with Bryan more than being with Sheila.  
  
As he exited the closet, he tucked a few stray strands of his wig behind his ears, and scanned the room for Mimi. Just as they agreed upon, she was standing by the exit door. He ran up to her, scooped her up in his arms, giving her a big hug.  
  
"How was your man of the night?" she asked, air-kissing him on the cheek.  
  
"Delicious," he giggled, "Did you have fun?"  
  
"I would have had a better time if my best friend hung out with me instead of fucking in a storage closet," she said, sarcastically.  
  
"I'm sorry, but I just can't keep the boys off of me," Angel explained, shrugging his shoulders.  
  
"Whatever. I kinda wish I brought my boyfriend with me, but I still had an okay time. So are we gonna go trick or treating now, or what?"  
  
"Hell yes! Let's go!"  
  
"We won't get very much candy, you know. That little white purse and my black bag should be enough room."  
  
"Absolutely. I just wanna see their reactions when we come to their houses at 11 at night, trick or treating like it's completely normal."  
  
They dissolved in a fit of giggles as they grabbed hands. Scampering out of the now empty apartment building, they left behind a room littered with confetti, crushed plastic cups, condom wrappers, and tinsel.  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
"Look at all of this!" Mimi exclaimed, gaping at her bag, bulging with candy. "I totally didn't expect any of this at all."  
  
"Me neither. The people hardly even turned us away, except for those two families in that building - did you see that woman's face when she saw my costume?"  
  
Mimi laughed loudly as she held onto Angel, who could barely stand up he was laughing so hard. "I do not approve of this! You're lucky my children aren't awake," Mimi said, mocking the woman who shunned them away in a fake, British accent.  
  
This sent Angel over the edge, as he crashed into a pile of garbage cans, collapsing against the wall. When he finally caught his breath, he spoke, "Oh. My. God. That was the funnies thing ever. Her face - completely priceless!"  
  
"I know. God, this is so much fun. It's so late, though, now I really feel bad bothering the yuppie scum of the city. One more building, then we'll call it a night?"  
  
"Yeah, good idea. Gosh, am I tired," Angel stated, yawning as he spoke.  
  
"Sex and trick or treating can really tire a person out, huh?"  
  
"Shut up!" Angel yelped, holding onto Mimi so he could get up.  
  
They arrived at the last building, noting that there were few lights on. That was understandable: it was 12:30 AM, and most people were asleep. The duo walked up to the first apartment that they saw, once they took the elevator up to the second floor. Angel knocked on the door loudly, fixing his halo so he looked presentable.  
  
"Hello," a young woman in her mid 30's said as she answered the door. She was dressed exactly as "yuppie scum" should be dressed: a 3-piece suit, elegant pearl necklace with matching earrings, blonde hair perfectly placed in a symmetrical bob, and classic red lipstick. Angel noted that the shade on her lips did absolutely nothing to accentuate her grey eyes, but resisted the urge to say something to her. He wasn't working at the makeup counter now, and giving makeup advice was what he got paid for.  
  
"Trick or treat!" Mimi screamed into the apartment, which was dark, except for the front light that the woman had turned on.  
  
"Excuse me? Do you two know what time it is?" she asked, obviously irritated with the rowdy duo standing at her door.  
  
"It is precisely 12:34 AM, ma'am," Angel answered, showing her his pink glittery watch, "and my friend and I are out trick or treating."  
  
"Trick or treating? Not only do both of you look to be in your twenties, which is entirely too old to be doing such childhood things, but you are disturbing my home! I have young children asleep in their bedrooms, how dare you wake them up. And what is this costume that you're wearing? It's disgusting!" she gasped, looking Angel up and down, noting his clothing, or lack thereof.  
  
"Um, I'm an angel," he responded, acting like she should have known that in the first place, "What, you don't like?"  
  
"I think it's sickening. I do not want to see that much of your body," she stated firmly, preparing to shut the door. Mimi and Angel were having too much fun with this, and there was no way they would stop now.  
  
"Why, you don't like the way I look? Are you calling me," Angel paused, taking a dramatic pause, "fat?"  
  
"Oh, you should not call Angel fat. He's very self-conscious about the way he looks," Mimi explained, playing along with Angel's ridiculous act. Angel began to fake-cry, to make the woman feel guilty. "Oh no! look what you've done, you. you've made him cry!"  
  
"I am not falling for that," the woman stating firmly, still trying to close the door, although Angel was leaning his entire body on it, holding his head in his hands, his shoulders shaking. They actually shook with laughter instead of tears, but the yuppie woman did not need to know that. "You are both 20 year olds trick or treating, and now one of you is crying because you think you're fat? This is absurd."  
  
Mimi managed to keep a straight face through the entire conversation, staring her down. "Whatcha gonna do about it?"  
  
"Call the cops," she said, calmly, as she held the phone in her hand and dialed 911, "Hello."  
  
Angel grabbed Mimi's arm, just as she was about to pick a fight with the woman. "Nice talking to you lady!" he yelled after her.  
  
"You never gave us candy, Chucha!" Mimi screamed, as Angel yanked her further down the hallway.  
  
"Get back here you two! The cops will be here any minute!" she shrieked after them, leaning out her door.  
  
"Run. fast," Angel said, as he and Mimi scooted out of the apartment through an emergency stair case.  
  
The rounded the corner of the building, ducking into an alley as they heard police sirens whiz by seconds later. Breathing heavily and trying to stifle their giggles, they gripped onto each other, smiling ear to ear.  
  
"That has to be the funniest thing that's ever happened to me," Mimi said, as she gripped onto Angel's glittery arm.  
  
"It's been an interesting evening. God, it's so late though, it's almost 1 now," Angel stated, looking at his watch.  
  
"Shit, Chase is gonna be so mad if I come home this late."  
  
"Chase?"  
  
"My boyfriend," she said, as if he asked a stupid question.  
  
"Oh yeah, I forgot that was his name. Anyway, why don't you call him and say you're spending the night at my place. I've met him before, he knows I'm no threat."  
  
"That's true. Is it okay with Paul?" she asked, nervously.  
  
"Paul really doesn't care who I have over, as long as he doesn't hear anything in the other room, if you catch my drift." He winked at her.  
  
"God, you're such a sex-addict."  
  
"It's a nice thing to be addicted too, though," Angel explained, nodding his head in satisfaction.  
  
"Yeah, I guess so. So you wanna head back to your place?"  
  
"Sure, let's go," Angel said, taking her hand as they trudged home on the dark streets, exhausted after a night of fun and mischief. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
A/N: Angel's a dirty little boy! Hehehe ( anyway, I hope you all like this one. I wrote it kinda quickly, so it's not exactly how I expected, but whatever. The next chapter should be up shortly, probably within a week or 2. thanks for reading, and don't be afraid to review. They make me SMILE! 


	40. Chapter 39: Christmas Bells are Ringing

Chapter 39: Christmas Bells Are Ringing  
  
"You're never here anymore. All I ever hear about is this guy, that guy, some party, and that girl-Mimi, is it-? I never see you! I don't even think you've been by here since you've moved out. What's going on, baby? I miss you."  
  
"I miss you too, Queenie. I've just been having such a nice time, though. Mimi and I are really, uh, involved with Life Support and we've been going to the socials and stuff. I even found this great gay club a couple of blocks from the apartment, so as soon as I get off work, I go dancing there. Mimi comes with me sometimes, when she's not at the Cat Scratch Club. You need to meet her, she's really sweet."  
  
"Well, I'll get to meet her tomorrow for Christmas. You're coming here, right?" Queenie asked, twisting the phone cord around her finger.  
  
"Um, well." Angel began, as he started to crack his knuckles, just like he did whenever he was nervous.  
  
"Angel Dumott-Schunard! You promised you would come home for Christmas. We're having a big bash at the club just like last year. It's gonna be a lot of fun, Ang. Please?" she whined.  
  
"I'm going to Mimi's to meet her family. She told them months ago that I was coming and they're all really excited to meet me. She says that ever since she moved in with Chase, her relationship with her parents hasn't been great, and I told her that I'd come to Christmas with her so her parents could see that the people she was hanging around weren't all druggies and old men."  
  
"I really wish you were coming here, though. You've been spending so much time with this girl. I don't like you being around someone so much when I haven't even met her. You're my son and I'm just looking out for you."  
  
"I know, but I promise I'll bring her over so you can meet her soon. She's only seventeen. She really needs someone to look out for her, and that's what I've been doing. When we go out together, I make sure she isn't doing any drugs or drinking or anything. I promise, I'm helping her out, just like you helped me."  
  
"You're a good person, Ang," Queenie said softly. Angel could hear the smile and pride in her voice. "Well, if you're not gonna come by here for Christmas, then I expect to see you soon with this chick Mimi. If she's as good a friend to you as you say, then she can't be that bad."  
  
"She's great, I promise. I'll let you know when we're coming by."  
  
"Okay Ang. We gotta start setting up for the Christmas eve bash tonight. It's gonna be wild. I'll talk to you later, honey. Love you."  
  
"Love you too," Angel said, as he hung up the phone. Quickly, he scurried over to his dresser, opening it up to reveal the present he had got Mimi. She was a tough chick to shop for; most straight girls were. But, the pants that he made her seemed to suit her perfectly. They were made of blue vinyl that was so shiny it looked like liquid. She always complained how she had a very revealing wardrobe, but everything was either black or silver. She wanted more clothes that stood out. He also got her a great set of makeup from Mac: a set of 5 brushes, a purple palette of makeup (lipstick, eye shadow, lip-gloss, and eyeliner), and a tub of silver glitter. Glitter is essential.  
  
He had even gotten some nice blue and purple wrapping paper to wrap it up with. He was so sure she would love the gift that it warmed his heart. He loved to give things to other people: it was something that he considered to be very important.  
  
After wrapping the gift and sealing it with a glittering silver ribbon, Angel proceeded to dig through his closet to find something tasteful to wear. He figured that, in front of Mimi's parents, it would be best to not dress in one of this over-the-top drag outfits. He knew that, from what she had told him, they were a reasonably conservative Christian family. However, that didn't mean that he couldn't still look good. After much careful selection, Angel had decided on a pair of sequined blue jeans, a fuzzy black sweater and his all-time favorite faux-fur white coat. He searched his giant shoe collection for the perfect pair of sneakers. This outfit did not call for heels. The blue and white Adidas sneakers seemed to fit the ensemble perfectly.  
  
His makeup was toned-down as well: only some light foundation and chapstick. He was still far from looking like a straight man, but at least he didn't look like a woman. After one last check in the mirror, he was finally ready to head down to Mimi's house. The clock read 7:03, and he was supposed to have met her at seven-fashionably late as usual.  
  
Paul came in the door as Angel was leaving. "Where you off to looking so nice?" he asked, his chocolate cheeks tinged pink from the cold.  
  
"Mimi's house for Christmas Eve dinner. Why, did you have something planned?"  
  
"Well, I thought you and I could go out together, but we can do that tomorrow, or something. It doesn't really matter. I should probably spend some time with my sister anyway. She's complaining that she hasn't seen me in years. I keep trying to get her to come to a Life Support meeting, but she keeps refusing. It's probably better that way anyway. Well, have fun tonight, and don't come home too late. Take a key with you," Paul said, handing him a rusted brass key.  
  
"Thanks. I hope everything works out with your sister," Angel said, giving him a hug and kiss goodbye as he shut the door and trotted down the stairs.  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
"Ang! You look good, baby!" Mimi exclaimed as she welcomed Angel into her apartment. He realized that he'd never been in her home before. It was a nice apartment: two bedrooms, 1 bathroom, a living room, and a small kitchen. In the corner of the living room sat a large wooden table and clothes lay strewn about the floors. Foreign sounding techno music played quietly from behind a closed door.  
  
"Thanks, honey. You look great, too. I've never seen you dressed so conservative. You almost look wholesome."  
  
"And you almost look straight," she said, kissing him on the cheek. "There's someone I want you to meet." Pulling him into the apartment, she opened the door to the closed-off bedroom.  
  
"Wait, just take this before you introduce me to your boyfriend," Angel said, handing her the present he had spent so much time wrapping.  
  
Her bright eyes lit up with excitement. "Ang, you didn't have to do this! I have something for you, too." She walked over behind the couch and pulled out a large, deep box wrapped in newspaper with a duct tape bow on the top. "I suck at wrapping presents, but I hope you like it."  
  
"Sugar, I'll love it!" Angel squealed, taking the present in his hands and air-kissing her cheek.  
  
"Good. We'll open them after you meet Chase," she said, opening the door to the closed bedroom.  
  
Music screamed through the open door as a tall man with shiny, chocolate-colored hair dropped the clothes he was folding and turned to face Mimi. "Who the fuck are you?" he asked, with a slight look of disgust on his chiseled features.  
  
"Chase, baby, this is my best friend Angel. Angel, this is my boyfriend Chase."  
  
"Nice you meet you, honey," Angel said, extending his hand, "Mimi's told me so much about you."  
  
Staring blankly at Angel's hand, Chase raised an eyebrow and glanced over at Mimi. Awkwardly, Angel's arm dropped down as he stood facing Chase, a smile still plastered on his shiny lips.  
  
"Well, anyway, we should get going," Mimi injected, putting an end to the uncomfortable silence, "Chase, you're more than welcome to come. The invite still stands."  
  
"No, I got some stuff to take care of," he said in a distant voice, then went back to folding clothes. "Stay here for a sec."  
  
"Okay. Ang, I'll be out in a minute."  
  
"Nice to meet you, Chase," Angel said as he exited the messy bedroom.  
  
Mimi shut the door behind him and turned off Chase's music. "What is your problem?" she asked, her eyes narrowing and arms crossed over her chest.  
  
"That guy's my problem, if you could even call him that."  
  
"He is a guy, and he happens to be my best friend. What has he ever done to you?"  
  
"He's a fuckin' fag and I don't want you around him. All you ever do is go to those gay-ass AIDS meetings and go sit with other fags and smoke. It's no wonder her got AIDS. He's probably fucked every guy in this city, gay or straight."  
  
"Fuck you!" she yelled, picking up one of his neatly thrown shirts and hurling it at him, "He actually got AIDS because someone raped him. How can you be so insensitive?" She held tightly onto the present Angel had given her before he had left the room.  
  
"I'm not being insensitive. You're probably off fucking other guys with him. You're such a fuckin' whore sometimes."  
  
"I am so sick of this same stupid argument, Chase. I'm not a whore, and I'm not cheating on you. I work at a club and sometimes I do have to give lap dances. Its part of my job and you knew that when I got it. And, if you EVER insult Angel again, I'll -."  
  
"You'll what?" he asked, walking up to her so they were now face to face. She was staring right at his chest, as he was at least 8 inches taller than her. "What?" he repeated again with a power-hungry, sarcastic tone.  
  
She remained silent, her eyes cast down to the floor.  
  
"That's what I though," he snapped, walking back over to the bed to keep folding the clothes.  
  
Wiping a tear from her cheek, Mimi walked up behind him and wrapped her arms around his waist. "I won't be out too late. Love you."  
  
He didn't respond.  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
Angel had been sitting outside on the lumpy couch during their entire fight and he had heard everything. He could tell that Chase was less than thrilled with him from the second he walked in the apartment.  
  
"Ready to go?" Mimi asked, a false smile on her face. Her eyes looked slightly red and it was obvious she'd been crying.  
  
"Not until you tell me what's going on," Angel said, quietly, reaching out so he could hold her hand.  
  
She sighed and took his hand. "Nothing's going on, everything's fine. I don't want to be late to my parent's house, though, so we need to go."  
  
"Mimi, listen, he -."  
  
"I don't want to hear it," she said, her voice weak and defeated. "Chase loves me and I love him. He was just having a bad day."  
  
"That's what I used to say about Will and look what happened to me. I just don't want you to get hurt, honey that's all."  
  
"I'm fine," she snapped, looking away from him.  
  
"If you insist," he said, skeptically, "Ooh! I want you to open your present. That'll cheer you right up."  
  
Sighing again, she looked down at the package in her hands. "I guess so," she grumbled, carefully taking the bow off and ripping the paper off. The top of the box was taken off to reveal the gift that Angel knew she'd love. She took the blue pants out of the wrapping and smiled a genuine grin. Holding them up against her body, she looked up at Angel with thankfulness. "Ang, these are wonderful! I've been looking for some nice color to add to my wardrobe forever, and these are perfect!"  
  
"I knew it would cheer you up. Do you like the makeup and glitter too?"  
  
"Of course! You know how I feel about glitter" Mimi exclaimed, hugging Angel tightly, squeezing his small body.  
  
"I'm glad you like it, but, honey, I need to breathe," Angel choked out. She let go of him and giggled. "I better open mine too, huh?"  
  
"I guess so. I hope you like it," she said, clenching her fists in anticipation.  
  
The duct tape ribbon slid off without too much difficulty and the newspaper came off easily too. Flipping the top of the box off, Angel took the gift out of the white tissue paper and held it up. White faux fur and tinsel trimmed the sleeves, hood, zipper, and bottom of the red fluffy coat. A shiny zebra belt was wrapped around the middle of the coat. Running his hands down the front of it, he felt the soft fabric-it felt almost like a stuffed animal. He was absolutely beaming with happiness as his eyes welled up with tears. He could tell by the look of the garment that it had to be one-of-a-kind. After all, not every queen could pull of a short Santa-like coat. "Where did you get this?" he asked quietly.  
  
"I went to that place you kept raving about, Dancing Queen. I talked to the person who makes the clothes there and told her about you. She was absolutely thrilled when I mentioned your name and she said she'd love to help me find you something. I looked through her new designs that she was thinking of, and this one looked perfect. She promised me that it was a unique coat. She would never make another one like it. She told me that no other queen would be able to pull it off like you," Mimi exclaimed, examining the finely made coat.  
  
"It's absolutely perfect. I love it. I more than love it. I can't even explain to you how much this means to me. It's so beautiful," Angel said, the tears still brimming in his eyes.  
  
"Aw, baby, I'm so glad you like it," Mimi smiled and hugged him again, not as hard this time. She looked at the clock on the wall in front of her. 7:34. "Shit!" she exclaimed, stuffing the blue pants back into the box, "We really need to go. We were supposed to be there at 7:30!"  
  
"Alright, let's go!"  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
A subway ride and five block walk later, Mimi and Angel were in the heart of Brooklyn on the front steps of a small, charming brick house. A light-up figure of Jesus and the Virgin Mary sat outside on the lawn amidst a perfect, unblemished white blanket of snow. Christmas lights adorned the door way and the railings, illuminating the front steps. Twinkling lights and iridescent ornaments sparkled on the tree in the window.  
  
"Your house is so cute, honey! I wish I grew up in something this nice," Angel squealed as he continued to further examine the charming home's exterior  
  
"No, you really don't," Mimi responded, rather curtly, then rang the doorbell.  
  
A petite Spanish woman with wild curly hair answered the door. She was a splitting image of Mimi in every way, except for her eyes: Mimi's were a deep green, and her mother's were dark brown-almost black. "Mimi chica!"  
  
"Hi Mami," Mimi grumbled, hugging her mother and kissing her on the cheek.  
  
"Tony, it's Mimi and her friend," she called up the stairs then turned back to face her guests.  
  
"Mami, this is Angel," Mimi said, pointing to the boy next to her in the sequined blue jeans.  
  
"Angel, it's so nice to meet you. Como estas?" She asked, hugging him immediately as if she'd known him forever. The way she said his name was so hunting: it sounded exactly like his own mother, when she was alive so many years ago. The similarity made him shiver slightly.  
  
"Hola señora. Estoy bien, y usted?" he asked, his Spanish still as fluent as it was when he and his mother used to speak in the rhythmic language for hours.  
  
"I didn't know you could speak Spanish. Es bien," she said, looking very impressed. "Oh, I am so rude, I haven't even let both of you in yet." Stepping out of the way, she made room for the two of them to walk into the warm, welcoming home. The house looked exactly how Angel had expected. Almost immaculately clean, the house smelled like freshly-baked bread. Floral wallpaper covered the walls in the living room, and a few Hispanic- looking paintings hung in the small dining room. "Have a seat and get comfortable."  
  
Angel sat down awkwardly on the sofa. Slumping next to him, Mimi took hold of his hand, squeezing it tightly. Angel's other hand held tightly onto the box containing the present that Mimi had given him a little while ago. "I'm so sorry you have to be here," she whispered as they heard her father come down the stairs.  
  
"You must be Angel," the deep voice spoke with a thick accent, "It's nice to finally meet you. Mimi rarely calls here anymore, but when she does, all she talks about is her friend Angel. It's nice to finally put a face to the name."  
  
"It's nice to meet you too, señor. I've heard a lot about you as well," Angel said, getting up from the couch to shake his hand.  
  
"You need to meet the rest of the family. Jorge! Alicia," he called upstairs as two more kids, looking identical to Mimi, came down. "Angel, this is Jorge," he pointed to the boy with a buzz cut, "and this is Alicia," he pointed to the girl who also had wild hair, just like Mimi's.  
  
"It's nice to meet both of you," Angel said politely, shaking their hands.  
  
"What do you say we eat, huh? I've been preparing this dinner all day. Are you ready?" Ms. Marquez cut it, beckoning everyone into the dining room. Mimi immediately leaped up from the couch and took hold of Angel's hand again. She rolled her eyes as they walked into the kitchen.  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
Jorge and Alicia ate and left the table as quickly as possible. Now, it was only Angel, Mimi, and her parents left.  
  
"So, Angel, why aren't you spending Christmas with your family?" Ms. Marquez asked, stuffing more chicken into her mouth.  
  
"Mami, that's rude! I can't believe you'd ask something like that," Mimi exclaimed, fiddling with the napkin in her lap. Her parents had been trying to start conversations the whole night, but to no avail. It was obvious that Mimi didn't want to talk to them. The only reason she bothered coming to her hold house in the first place was to show her parents that she wasn't a homeless crack-whore.  
  
"No, Mimi, it's okay. I don't mind telling them," Angel answered, calmly, as he pushed some Spanish rice around on his plate. He was just about five pounds over his maximum weight limit, so he made sure that he ate very little, and that what he did eat was very healthy. "When I was sixteen, my parents kicked me out of the house because I was gay. Four months later, I went back to see how my mother was doing, and she was in the hospital. My father had beaten her up or something. She died right in front of my eyes. I haven't seen or heard from my father since I left."  
  
"I'm so sorry, Angel," Mr. Marquez said in a low, somber tone, "That must have been so difficult."  
  
"It sounds a lot worse than it actually is. I met Queenie and Fred, a couple who own this club in the East Village and they've become my family in every way. Genes don't mean anything. The two of them basically raised me. I love them like I loved my own biological parents. Maybe even more."  
  
"That's very sweet," Ms. Marquez remarked as she finished the rice and chicken on her plate. "I'm glad you decided to join us tonight."  
  
"I'm glad I'm here," Angel grinned warmly.  
  
"So, Mimi, how is everything with that boy?" her mother asked innocently.  
  
"God, mother, do you have to keep asking questions? This is such bullshit. I'm going outside to have a smoke," she snapped as she got up from her seat and stomped outside, her clunky boots thumping against the wooden floors.  
  
Ms. Marquez looked down at her now empty plate as an expression of concern formed on her face. A single tear dropped on to her plate as she lifted her head, attempting to maintain a smile. "She's always been like that," she sighed, shaking her head slightly, "That's why she left in the first place."  
  
"If you don't mind me asking," Angel cut in, "how old was she when she left?"  
  
"She had just turned sixteen. It was actually ten months ago today, I think. She moved out right around last Valentine's Day," Mr. Marquez mumbled, "She had just told us that she was HIV positive and that she was three months pregnant. She also told us not to worry though, because she had a new boyfriend named Chase, I think, who was also positive and he wanted to be with her. He was willing to care for the baby, and to let her live with him."  
  
"We were outraged," Ms. Marquez continued, "more shocked than anything. We didn't want her dating and having sex at such a young age. So we told her she needed to calm down. My daughter's just as stubborn as I am and she wouldn't listen. She told us that she would do what she wanted to, whether she lived with us or not and when we forbade it, she told us she was going to pack her things and go live with Chase."  
  
"That seems like something Mimi would do," Angel mumbled as he continued to play with the food on his plate, knocking down towers of Spanish rice, "You just let her go?"  
  
"We tried to stop her. It seems like you know her reasonably well. If you told her not to do something, do you think she'd actually listen?" Mr. Marquez questioned, raising an eyebrow at him. Angel stared back, considering the question. "Exactly. She's the most stubborn person I know. She does what she wants, when she wants. I'm surprised she even came back tonight. She hasn't been back here since she left and I think she's only called once or twice." Standing up, he cleared his throat and picked up his plate. "I'm gonna go outside and see what she's up to. Would you like me to take your plates?"  
  
Ms. Marquez nodded, handing her plate to her husband. Angel did the same. "Gracias," she said softly. Once he left, she looked over at Angel and smiled. "I'm glad Mimi met you. You seem like a wonderful boy."  
  
"That's very nice of you to say," he answered politely, keeping a genuine smile plastered on his face, "and I'm glad I met her. She's got her problems, but she's been a really good friend to me. It hasn't really been easy since I left my parent's house and she's been a great friend to me."  
  
Sighing, she looked deeply into Angel's eyes, as tears began to form in her own. "We didn't want this to happen to her. It's one of those things that you read about in the newspapers and see on TV, but you never think it'll actually happen to your own child. We worry about her, you know."  
  
"I know you do. Whether or not she'll ever admit it, she loves you both so much-you and your husband. Someday, she'll realize how lucky she is to come from such a great family. She's lucky that you're there for her at all."  
  
"Watch out for her, Angel," she said, speaking his name identical to the way is own mother did, "You're good for her. Try to keep her out of trouble."  
  
"I'll do my best," Angel replied, warmly, as he got up from his chair and hugged her.  
  
"Ang, you ready to go?" Mimi asked, stomping in through the kitchen. She still had her heavy winter coat on, which she obviously had no intention of removing. It sounded like more of a command than a question.  
  
"Yeah, sure." He released Mimi's mother from the hug as he walked over to join Mimi in the doorway. "Mr. And Mrs. Marquez, thank you so much for this wonderful dinner. This was a wonderful Christmas, and I hope that you both have a happy and healthy new year."  
  
"Thank you, Angel. You too," Mr. Marquez replied, shaking the boy's hand firmly.  
  
"Goodnight," Mimi mumbled as she yanked Angel out of the door.  
  
"God, I thought we'd never get out of there. Do you see why I didn't want to go?" Mimi ranted as she walked down the streets, her boot clunking on every step.  
  
"They're very nice people," Angel stated firmly, refusing to let her put her parents down.  
  
"They're nice until you have to live with them. You're lucky you don't have any parents." She immediately regretted saying that when she saw the hurt in Angel's eyes. "Baby, I'm sorry, I didn't mean it like that!" she apologized quickly.  
  
"Forget it," Angel replied, trying to act as calm as possible, "You know, they really love you and I can tell you really love them. You'd never admit it, but you do. You're one of the luckiest people the world, you know that? Most parents, if their kid did what you did, would have given up, but your parents still love you and they still hope and pray for you. You take all of that for granted. You don't even know how good you have it."  
  
The rest of the trip home was completely silent.  
  
A/N: FINALLY!!!! This chapter took me FOREVER to write, because I really want to get on to the next part. As usual, please read and review. Let me know what you think ( and the next chapter should be up in about a week or two. Sorry for the delay on this one! Enjoy, my loyal readers!!!!! 


	41. CHapter 40: You Live A Lie

Chapter 40: You Live A Lie.  
  
Angel sat quietly outside the back of the Cat Scratch Club, waiting for Mimi to come out. The two of them had just found out about this great new gay club, Metropolis, in the heart of the East Village. Angel had been looking for an excuse to go out and get more hot dates, since the last time he had gone out dancing was Halloween, and it was now mid-January. Since Christmas, Mimi had been apologizing to him on a daily basis for what she said about how he was lucky he had no parents. It had been a difficult apology to accept, but Angel was never the type to stay mad at anyone for a long period of time. It wasn't in his nature. Tonight, Mimi had promised that she'd "make it up to him-hardcore," by taking him to Metropolis. She had to work the evening shift at the club, which meant that she'd be getting off around eight. As usual, she would meet Angel in the back of the Cat Scratch Club where all the dumpsters and used cigarettes were.  
  
He sat on a giant white tub, noting that there was another one just in front of him. Pulling the tub between his knees, he started to bang softly on it. It reminded him of the days in High School when he would skip his math classes to sit in the music studio and drum for hours. Lenny used to come and join him, making up some lame song to go along with his killer rhythms. He didn't think about Lenny very much, but when he did, he felt youthful again. He couldn't believe that it had been almost six years since he had stopped dating Lenny. It felt like only yesterday.  
  
Just like old times, his hands took on a life of their own, pounding onto the white tub, creating some new, original rhythms unlike anything he'd ever played before. Playing on the tub really made him miss his old drums. Shutting his eyes, he began to play harder and faster, letting his mind wander as his hands did the communicating with the outside world. Sometimes, Angel felt the only way to truly express himself was through music.  
  
He didn't know how long he'd been playing, or how long his butt had been numbing on the other tub, but Mimi stood in front of him and applauded, breaking his trance. "Bravo, Ang. I didn't know you could play the drums like that!"  
  
"Yeah, I used to play in High School. I've always wanted to start playing again, but I've never had the time or the materials. And this tub right here," he said, picking up the tub and reading the side label "Shickle's Pickles? It seemed like the perfect instrument."  
  
"You know, there's this guy I know who plays the drums on the street right outside Washington Square Park. You should try that sometime!" Mimi exclaimed, her eyes lighting up with excitement.  
  
"Street drumming? I don't know, isn't that something that homeless people do? And who, in their right mind, would pay for a drag queen street drummer banging this Shickle's Pickle tub?"  
  
Giggling, Mimi responded, "It would certainly be interesting, I can tell you that much. You should try it sometime."  
  
"If I'm ever really desperate," Angel said, picking up the tub and holding it under his arm. "You ready to go? I've got this slammin' new outfit for tonight and I can't wait to meet some new guys!"  
  
"You and your men," Mimi sighed, shaking her head, "All right, let's head out."  
  
Angel squealed with excitement as he skipped down the alley holding Mimi's hand.  
  
"Oh my god. I didn't know there were gonna be so many people," Angel whispered, awe-struck. Masses of men dressed to impress curled around the side of building. Angel had never seen so many good-looking guys concentrated in one area before. The Life Support parties were one thing: there was a reasonable number of attractive men, but none that were so incredibly eye-catching they made him drool. This crowd, however, was entirely opposite. Every man seemed to be even more attractive than the next. Joining the long line of people at the very end, Angel stood in front of Mimi, completely and totally entranced. "They're all hot."  
  
"Come on, Ang, not all of them are that good-looking," Mimi reasoned, staring at the man in front of her.  
  
"No, I'm really not exaggerating, they are ALL attractive. I haven't seen this many hot guys since.ever!" Angel was giddy with excitement as the line began to move, letting each guy in one by one.  
  
Finally, Angel and Mimi were admitted. The club wasn't even checking ID's, so Angel considered himself lucky. Mimi was only seventeen and he didn't have his ID on him. Wandering into the club, the two tried to take in their surroundings as best they could, but it was overwhelming. A lit- up dance floor illuminated the go-go-dancers on it and above them a large sign blinked the name "METROPOLIS."  
  
The music was loud, but not as insanely loud as it was at Club Tran. An old favorite of Angel's, "Let's Hear It For The Boy," was playing and crowds upon crowds of men were bumping and grinding together. Looking over at Mimi, he smiled at her and said, "It's time for me to get my night started."  
  
"Enjoy, Ang. I'll be at the bar, so let me know when you're ready to leave," Mimi said, casually, walking off to the classy bar at the back of club.  
  
Now alone, Angel wandered about the perimeter of the dance floor. He really wanted to dance, but he didn't know anyone at this club and dancing by oneself was too lonely. Scanning the dance floor for a new, hot guy, Angel finally spotted one. A gorgeous, youthful blonde boy danced provocatively up against a much older man. The blonde couldn't have been more than 19 and his partner looked to be at least in his mid twenties. It was uncharacteristic of Angel to approach a guy like this, especially a guy who dancing with another guy, but the blonde boy was too cute to pass up. Taking a dive onto the dance floor, he swam through the masses of sweaty, dancing men to the center of the floor where the blonde boy and his partner were dancing. He came up quietly next to the boy and smiled at him. The boy smiled back with a dazzling, sparkling smile that illuminated the dance floor. He turned away from his partner and began to dance with Angel. Minutes later they were grinding up against each other, eyes closed, completely engrossed in the music. The boy's partner put his arms around both of them. Angel didn't realize how insanely beautiful he was until he saw him up close: the man was absolutely stunning. Intense deep brown eyes stared at Angel and his new dance partner and brown hair flopped in his eyes. A black button up shirt with rolled-up sleeves covered his body and fitted, faded blue jeans covered his legs. Smiling slightly at both of the boys, he began to walk off the dance floor. Grabbing Angel's hand, the blonde boy guided him off, trailing behind his partner.  
  
Walking through clumps of dancing people and a dimly lit doorway, the threesome found themselves in the back room of the club. Many couples occupied the corners of the hallways; all having a gratifying one night stand. The blonde boy's partner pushed Angel up against the wall and ripped his shirt off. Angel wasn't wearing drag tonight: he thought that a club like Metropolis would not be suitable for a girly-boy in a dress. The blonde boy began to unzip Angel's pants. His partner began to kiss Angel, hard and passionate, on the mouth as Angel shut his eyes, his mind swimming with pleasurable thoughts.  
  
The two men pleasured him and Angel leaned against the wall, occasionally moaning in euphoric happiness. Almost as quickly as it began, he climaxed and the men stood up. Angel zipped his pants back up and looked both men in the eye in sheer wonder at how they could have been so quick, yet so amazing.  
  
"Can I have your number?" he asked softly, searching through the pocket of jeans for paper and pen.  
  
"I'm sorry, but our services are one-time only," the older man said, keeping his arm firmly around the shoulder of his younger partner.  
  
Disappointed, Angel removed his hand from his pocket and looked back at them. "Then can I ever see you again?"  
  
"We'll see you in your dreams." The partners walked off together without looking back.  
  
Angel walked slowly back into the club and turned straight to the bar. He had just had the best pleasure of his life, but was now disappointed because he would never see those two men again. He had a feeling they were a couple, but had one of those open relationships. Sighing, he spotted Mimi in the corner, sipping on a drink with a bunch of empty glasses in front of her.  
  
"Hey baby. How was the bar?" he asked, smiling at Mimi who gulped down another drink.  
  
"Fabulous," she replied, slurring her words and smiling. "How was your fuck of the night? Was he any good?"  
  
"THEY were amazing," Angel told her, satisfied, "And, yes, there were two of them."  
  
"Two? Fuck you, you dirty slut!" Mimi exclaimed, laughing a drunken giggle.  
  
"I know I'm a slut, but it was so worth it tonight. The two of them were amazing. I swear to god, it was the best head of my life."  
  
"Glad to hear it." She patted Angel on the back. Catching the attention of the bar tender, she waved him over, "Can I get another one of these?"  
  
"Darling, that is your sixth drink tonight. Don't you think you've had enough?" he asked, concerned.  
  
"I said I want another one!" she yelled, slamming the empty glass on the table.  
  
"Mimi, baby, it's time to go home," Angel stated, picking her up off the stool and supporting her as he dragged her out. "I'm sorry about that," Angel said to the bartender as they left.  
  
"Angel! I'm fine!" Mimi moaned as he dragged her out of the door. Her eyes were glazed over and she could barely stand up straight. He'd seen her drunk before, but it was never this bad.  
  
"No, you're not fine. Why did you drink so much?"  
  
"Because there's nothing to do when I go to gay clubs. I go to hang out with my best friend Angel, but all he does is have lots of sex with lots of guys. I'm surprised you haven't gotten any STD's yet."  
  
Suppressing his anger, Angel decided it was best to ignore what Mimi just said, considering the fact that she was completely plastered. "Mimi, I'm gonna walk you to your door, you're gonna rest up, and I'll come by tomorrow and see how you're doing," he spoke, holding her up as they walked through the front door of her building.  
  
"Think about what I said, Angel," Mimi said, slurring her words so he could barely understand her, "You're living a lie."  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
The walk home hadn't been an easy one. Try as he did, Angel couldn't brush off what Mimi had said. "You're living a lie," slurred words echoed in his head. He kept trying to get Mimi's comment out of his head by humming the tune to the song he danced to in the club. The thoughts of the night's events before he reconnected with Mimi made him smile. At least he had a good time.  
  
He continued to think of his hot hookup as he entered Paul's apartment, grinning from ear to ear. Throwing his coat on the couch, he turned to go into his bedroom when he saw Paul sitting at the table, sitting in a bathrobe and sipping steaming coffee. "Oh my god, you scared me! I didn't see you when I came in," Angel said.  
  
"Yeah, I couldn't sleep. I was kinda worried about you, actually. How was your night?" Paul asked, still staring into his coffee.  
  
"It was great. Oh my god, Paul, I got the best blowjob of my life. Why were you so worried?" Angel questioned, tilting his head to the side.  
  
"Because you're living a lie," he stated bluntly, placing his spoon back in the coffee as he stared into Angel's eyes.  
  
"You too? Mimi said the same thing to me tonight. Of course, she was falling-over drunk, but still. What would make you say something like that?" his voice was starting to get a bit harsher, his tone more defensive.  
  
"For once, Mimi's right about something. What happened to wanting to be in love, Angel? Like that fairy tale romance you were talking about. Where did that dream go?"  
  
Cracking his knuckles, his eyes narrowing into slits, Angel glared at him. "I don't want to talk about it."  
  
"Frankly, I don't care if you want to talk about it or not," Paul stated firmly, standing up. He was exactly at eye-level with Angel. "Something needs to be said and I'm not gonna sit around and watch you come home every night after having even more meaningless sex with random guys that you meet at those Life Support conventions."  
  
"Well, you're the one that brought me in the first place, so I don't know what you're complaining about," he said, brushing off Paul's comments.  
  
"Those events are meant for people living with HIV to meet other people in the same boat so that they can discuss it. Obviously, you don't like to discuss your problems. You'd rather go off and fuck everything that moves than admit that there's something wrong."  
  
"That's not true!" Angel yelled taking a step closer to Paul, "There's nothing wrong! Everything's fine!"  
  
"No, you see, that's where you're wrong. Everything's not fine. If everything was fine, you would stay true to your morals and not fuck around every night."  
  
"I don't know what morals you're talking about and I don't understand why you have such a problem with me having a good time," Angel protested, crossing his arms over his chest.  
  
"But that's the thing. You're not having a good time. You're lying to yourself. You don't want this, and I know that you don't want it -."  
  
"No, I -," Angel interrupted.  
  
"Don't interrupt me and let me finish," Paul stated firmly. He was not used to Paul being this stern with him. As far as he had seen, Paul was nothing but considerate and easy-going. Never had he acted in such an upfront, aggressive manner. "I know why you're acting this way and, whether you admit it or not, I think that deep down inside you know it too. I know you've been through hell. After all the stories you've told me, it's obvious that your life hasn't been easy. But that's no reason to betray everything you want and everything you've been taught."  
  
"Okay, Paul, if you're so smart, then why am I acting this way?" Angel questioned, a sarcastic snap in his voice.  
  
"Because you got raped and you don't know how to deal with it."  
  
"How dare you bring that into this!" Angel yelled, feeling tears well up in eyes. Getting rape was something that he never wanted to discuss with anyone. Anytime the subject of rape came up in the conversation, Angel would close himself off immediately.  
  
"Because that's the truth. People deal with these things in two ways: they don't touch anyone, or they touch everyone. When you first moved in with me, you kept talking about how you wanted this fairy-tale romance and how you wanted to find your prince charming. All you've done is fuck around, insisting that this is what you want: meaningless sex, and nothing more. I don't believe it for a second."  
  
"What makes you think that I want to have sex because I got raped? I have sex because I like it. It feels good, and it makes me happy. I'm good at it too-my partners have no objections. So why do you have such a problem?"  
  
"Just be honest with yourself, Angel. Is this really what you want? Do you really need to run around and fuck every guy in town just to prove to yourself that you don't need love or attachment?" he paused, raising an eyebrow at Angel. Angel said nothing. "I've met plenty of rape victims- you're not the only one. Especially after what happened with Will-how he betrayed you and hurt you-it's understandable where your fear of relationships and attachment is. But what you're doing right now is not healthy. It's not helping anyone, and you might think that it's making you happy, but all it does is further suppress something that needs to be talked about and taken care of."  
  
"I told you, everything's fine," Angel said softly as he began to cry. There weren't any hysterics, no shaking, no screaming: just tears dripping down his face.  
  
"Talk to me, Angel," Paul said gently, staring at Angel until he was ready to speak.  
  
"I can't," he whispered, turning away from Paul.  
  
"You know you -."  
  
"I can't because I don't know," Angel stated, his voice sounding small and weak, "I don't know what I want, and I don't know how to get it. I like having sex. It feels good. But no matter how good it feels, I can't help myself from thinking about Will and Lenny-about love. I'm scared to death of everything. Every time I walk up to a guy I'm so afraid he's gonna be just like Chad: he'll come up behind me, unzip his pants, and do it. They never do, though. Every guy I've slept with has used protection and treated me like a queen. I don't know why I keep doing it if I'm so scared," he said, smiling a bit.  
  
"You keep doing it because you're looking for your soul mate. You're looking for the person who will make you complete. Yes, sex is the most intimate act a human can commit, but no matter how close you think you're getting, nothing compares with sharing a soul with someone. You keep searching, and I can tell every time you come home that there's a certain emptiness inside of you that you can't shake off, even if you have slept with half the gay population in New York City."  
  
Angel sighed and looked at him, trying to comprehend all that had just been said. "I think I'm going to go to bed."  
  
"Just think, Angel. Think about what you really want and how you're gonna get it. Think about your life and how you can change it to make your days the best that they can be."  
  
Angel nodded as he disappeared into the bedroom, shutting the door quietly behind him.  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~\  
  
It was almost 5 AM by the time Angel had shut his lights off. Paul had gone to bed a long time ago, shortly after Angel had retired to his room for the night. He couldn't sleep: the conversation played over in his head. For some reason, Paul's words were echoing over and over. "Just think, Angel. Think about what you want and how you're gonna get it."  
  
All he could think about was Paul's speech. Angel enjoyed having sex: he loved knowing that men found him attractive and that they wanted to sleep with him. He was being a bit extreme with his sexuality, but it was something that felt right. In a final effort to get Paul's words out of his head, he thought about the other part of the night: the part where two beautiful men gave him pleasure at once. This brought a smile to his face as he leaned back and shut his eyes, recreating the feeling of the blonde's hands running down his body. Shifting his hand under the covers, he kept his eyes closed and laid back on his pillow, quickly trying to forget what Paul said, surrendering himself to another round of extreme yet self destructive pleasure.  
  
Never in his life had he ever felt so alone.  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~/  
  
A/N: Snaps to anybody who got the Queer as Folk references ( REVIEW PLEASE!!! Suggestions are always welcome! 


	42. Chapter 41: The Bet

Chapter 41: The Bet  
  
9:30 AM was awfully early for the phone to be ringing. Flinging his feet over the side of the bed, Angel stood up, stretched, and then leaned over to pick up the phone. Sniffling and gasping could be heard on the other end. "Hello?" Angel said, cautiously, into the phone.  
  
"Ang?" Mimi's voice asked, sounding very upset.  
  
"Mimi? Baby, what's wrong?" Angel questioned, concerned.  
  
"It's Chase. Last night, I came home early from the club to surprise him and he-," her voice broke, "He was in bed with another girl!"  
  
"Oh my god. Honey, I'm so sorry."  
  
"She looked like she was thirteen and she wasn't even fucking pretty! I told him to get out and when I woke up this morning, all his stuff was gone and he just left a note!" She cried loudly as Angel sat on the other end, patiently waiting for her to calm down.  
  
"Everything's gonna be fine. You're a great girl and any guy would be lucky to have you," Angel encouraged.  
  
"Yeah, but apparently Chase doesn't think so. You know what he said in the note? Get this!" she laughed bitterly as he heard her unfolding a piece of paper, "'Mimi-sorry it didn't work out. I left the check for this month's rent on the counter. Take care, Chase.' He didn't even say 'I love you' or 'It was a mistake.' All he cares about his having sex. I bet that girl didn't have HIV and she probably didn't think to ask him if he did either. He's such a dumb fuck!" she screamed into the phone, as her crying began again.  
  
"I know. Men suck, but that's why we love them," Angel sighed, "Can I help with anything?"  
  
Her crying abruptly stopped as she spoke softly into the phone, "I don't want to be alone."  
  
"I'm sure you'll find a new guy soon enough. You've never had any problem finding them before," Angel suggested, optimistically.  
  
"No, that's not it. I mean, I don't want to live in my place alone. It's scary here at night when there's nobody to talk to. Will you stay with me, Ang? Please?" she asked, her voice sounding soft and innocent, a far cry from the way she usually acted.  
  
"You want me to move into your place?" he questioned, slightly confused. He'd never lived with a girl before.  
  
"I mean, you don't have to if you don't want to. I'll understand. But you keep saying that the thing with Paul is only temporary and that you need a new place to go because you've been there for almost a year, and I figure that you could stay here. We could split the rent and everything. There's 2 bedrooms, so we won't have to worry about anything like that, but you know I-."  
  
"Say no more. I know what it's like to just be out of a relationship and I know how lonely it can be. I'll get Paul to help me bring some stuff over and I'll stay."  
  
"Thank so much Ang. I feel better already. When will you come?"  
  
"I'll be there in a couple of hours, I guess. See you soon baby. And hang in there-it'll get better, I promise."  
  
"Thanks hon. Love you."  
  
"Love you too," he said, as he hung up the phone. Looking out his window, the sun blinded his eyes. It was the first sunny day there had been in, what seemed like, months. Spring was supposed to be the rainiest season of the year, and it was.  
  
Standing up and stretching, Angel went over to the wardrobe closet in his bedroom. Rows of rainbow clothing greeted him, organized sufficiently by season and then by color. Often times, Angel had considered making a catalog of all his outfits, but he didn't have the time or the patience. With a wardrobe that big, making a catalog could take a couple of days. Underneath Angel's bed were stacks of suitcases from his last move. Since he knew that Paul's house would only be a temporary place of residence, he had decided to keep his bags ready to move again. He never even unpacked all of the little things, like pictures, letters, magazines, etc. that he had packed when he left the club. Hauling the duffle bags out from under the bed, he began to open them up, reading the labels that he had put on them. "Spring shoes" "Winter shoes" "Winter drag red-yellow" "Winter men's clothes." It was complex system, but one that he was very proud of.  
  
The running water coming from the kitchen distracted Angel from packing as he ventured outside his bedroom to greet Paul. "Good morning," Angel chirped cheerfully, as Paul set up his coffee machine to make his morning java.  
  
"You're cheerful this morning. What's going on?" Paul asked suspiciously, smiling brightly. Angel always admired how, no matter what time of day it was, Paul always had a beautiful smile on his face.  
  
"Mimi called me this morning."  
  
"So that's who called. The phone woke me up."  
  
"Yeah, I figured she was calling kinda early. Anyway, she was really upset so I didn't bother her about our 'No calling before 12' rule. She caught Chase cheating on her last night so she kicked him out. She was really upset and didn't want to be alone. She asked me if I wanted to say with her. I've been saying forever how I need to go and find a place of my own since I've been here for almost a year, so I figure now is the perfect time to make the change. We're gonna split the rent and I'm gonna keep my job at Mac to help pay it. I thought you'd be happy about that."  
  
"That's wonderful!" Paul exclaimed, putting down the coffee pot so he could give Angel a hug, "I'm so happy for you! I must admit, though, that I will miss having you around. I won't miss my armoire being invaded by your dresses, but you've definitely been an interesting guest, to say the least."  
  
Angel laughed, "I'm gonna miss it here, too. I mean, I'll still be at Life Support and everything, but it won't be the same. I know what you mean." He paused for a second to think about the fun times that he and Paul had together. Similar to Queenie, Paul had taken Angel in when he needed somewhere to be and something to do. He hadn't judged Angel in any way and he'd only helped him through a difficult part of his life. He was certainly going to miss living with him. "Do you wanna help me move some of my stuff?"  
  
"Yeah, sure. I'd love to. Do you still have the boxes from when you came here?"  
  
"Yeah. I knew the move was only temporary, so I figured it would be best to hold onto them," Angel laughed, "I don't know how I'm going to pack away my entire wardrobe. I have this great organization system where they're arranged by color by season and it works so well."  
  
"You are the most fashion-obsessed man I have ever met," Paul told him, shaking his head, "That's one thing I won't miss, though. You being absolutely anal about your clothes being in the right place and in the right order."  
  
"Hey, it takes a lot of effort to maintain a wardrobe like mine!" Angel exclaimed, walking back to the wardrobe in the living room to start packing up all his clothes. "See, when you don't want something to get badly-wrinkled during travel, you roll it instead of fold it," he explained, taking a favorite outfit of his-the dress that looked like it was made of rubber rings-and rolling it tightly, placing at the bottom of the box. "See? It works like a charm." (Fashion tip courtesy of Carson on Queer Eye For The Straight Guy.)  
  
"Good to know," Paul said, slightly puzzled. "Do you wanna move everything today?"  
  
"I'm not sure. I guess I'll pack most of it up today and just bring a couple of outfits tonight. You know me, I can never decide what to wear."  
  
"That's true. All right, let's get packing!"  
  
"Sure thing!" Angel replied, turning around to get ready to retreat into his room to empty even more drawers.  
  
Abruptly Paul put his arm on Angel's shoulder, causing him to turn around. "You know, I noticed that you didn't go out last night."  
  
Looking down at the floor awkwardly, Angel shifted his weight. "Yeah that's right."  
  
"Come to think of it, you don't go out at all very much anymore," Paul stated, his arms hanging limply at his side, head tilted slightly to the right.  
  
Still shuffling his feet awkwardly, he began to crack his knuckles, not able to make eye contact with Paul. "I do go out," he insisted, his voice sounding small and weak.  
  
"You don't go out nearly as much as you used to," Paul aid, firmly, refusing to break eye contact with Angel.  
  
"I don't know, I guess I just listened to what you said," Angel said quietly, quickly turning around and retreating into his bedroom.  
  
Paul smiled an all-knowing grin as he watched Angel walk away. The words had finally had an effect on him.  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~/  
  
By 3:30 PM, after about 5 hours of non-stop packing, most of Angel's stuff was neatly rolled in the boxes and he had two duffle bags packed with essentials for his first few nights at Mimi's before he could move all of his stuff in. The bags consisted of a travel makeup kit- which was much smaller than his usual bag of cosmetics- about eight different outfits, in case he didn't feel like wearing a few of them, two wigs (the signature black bob and the basic layered blonde) and three pairs of shoes. Paul held Angel's sheets, blanket, and pillow as they stepped into the front room of the apartment.  
  
"How are we going to haul all of this there?" Angel asked, looking down at the two enormous duffle bags he was holding. They were the bags that he had used to pack his stuff when his parents had kicked him out of the house so many years ago. Gold crosses, which were now extremely dull and scratched up, still dangled onto the handle.  
  
"Sherri and Rae said they'd help. They've got a big SUV kind of thing. It kinda looks like a pick up truck. Leave it to the lesbians to have a pickup truck," Paul said, laughing.  
  
Angel giggled right along with him, "I can't believe they actually drive one of those."  
  
"Me neither," Paul agreed as they hauled Angel's belongings down the hall into the elevator to go downstairs and wait for Sherri and Rae.  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~/  
  
Mimi's apartment building was closer than Angel had remembered. Every night when he went to drop her off after their exotic nights at the club, the walk seemed interminable. Today, the car ride seemed as if it took under five minutes.  
  
"Can we help you guys unload anything?" Sherri asked, still sitting in the front seat behind the wheel. Rae sat next to her, holding her hand tightly.  
  
"No, I think we're all set. But we might need to utilize your car again in a few days-Angel still has about a million boxes of clothes to bring over."  
  
The girls laughed. "Yeah, Ang, I don't think we've ever seen you wear the same outfit twice," Rae remarked.  
  
"I try not to, you know? I repeat outfits every season, but I couldn't imagine wearing the same outfit twice in one month. The thought makes me shudder," Angel said, giggling as he smoothed down the front of his shirt.  
  
The four of them all took one bag-Angel held one bag of clothes and Paul held the other, while Rae and Sherri took care of the sheets, pillow, and blanket. They were lucky that Mimi's apartment was right on the first floor. Angel rang the buzzer and the door opened as the 3 of them followed him into the building. Standing at the door was Mimi, eyes red and rimmed with tears. She held a wrinkled tissue in her hand, covered in black eye makeup. "Thanks for coming so soon," she said, her voice hoarse from crying.  
  
"Baby, come here," Angel said as he took the young girl in his arms, holding her as she cried even more. Paul, Sherri, and Rae dropped the bags by the front door while Angel still held her tightly.  
  
"Ang, feel free to call and let me know when you want to take the rest of your stuff over," Paul said, walking away to leave Angel and Mimi alone.  
  
Once they had left, Mimi and Angel dragged the bags inside, shutting the door behind them. "I'm so sorry that I made you come here. I just didn't know what to do and I didn't want to be alone," Mimi said.  
  
"It's fine. Don't even worry about it. I'm glad to be here. I think Paul was actually starting to get a bit sick of me. He was getting really annoyed with my wardrobe. Not everyone can put up with my impeccable fashion sense."  
  
Mimi laughed, "I'm really glad you're here. When are you gonna move the rest of your stuff over?"  
  
"Probably in a few days, if you want me to stay. Sherri said she'd bring her massive truck over the Paul's whenever I needed her to."  
  
"You wanna call them tomorrow and ask them to help? I want you to get settled as quick as possible."  
  
"Yeah I'll definitely call them. I'd like to get settled too."  
  
"Thanks, Ang. You're the best," Mimi told him, kissing him on the cheek.  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~/  
  
A week went by reasonably fast. Angel was getting crazy with not being able to choose exactly what he wanted to wear every day, so the sooner that Sherri, Rae, and Paul could help him move in, the better. He had almost resorted to sharing clothes with Mimi, but then realized that even her clothes were not refined enough for such a fashion-obsessed queen.  
  
At 12:00 on the dot, Paul, Rae, and Sherri got to Mimi's building and beeped the horn, letting Angel know that they had arrived. Angel leaped up from the couch, shutting off the television as he ran into Mimi's room and grabbed her arm. "They're here!" he squealed, thrilled that he would be reunited with his wardrobe once again.  
  
"Calm down, Ang. I've never seen anybody get so excited over getting their clothes back before."  
  
"You don't understand. Not being able to choose what to wear every day is driving me nuts!" he squealed, dragging her down the flight of stairs and outside to greet his friends.  
  
"We're gonna be here for a while," Paul said to Angel when he got out of the car. "This car is packed with boxes. I never knew you had so much stuff, Angel, it's crazy!"  
  
"What can I say, I like variety," Angel said as he picked up a huge, heavy box. Barely able to walk, he waddles up to the front door and put the box down to rest. "This is very difficult," he mumbled to himself, picking the box back up and carrying it into the building.  
  
Nearly an hour later, almost all of Angel's stuff had been moved in. There was only one box left, which Paul had conveniently left in the lobby. Sherri and Rae had to leave, since they were only their lunch breaks from work and they were already going to be late. Somehow, they managed to drag Paul along with them, insisting that Angel was a big boy and he could bring the last box up himself. Patiently, Mimi waited at the top of the stairs as Angel lifted the last heavy box up the final flight, panting slightly from carrying so much.  
  
Just as he was about to reach the top of the staircase, a sexy black guy with dreadlocks walked by him on the stairs. Gawking at him, Angel stood with his mouth hanging open, eyes bugging out of his head. This was, by far, the most attractive man he'd ever seen. The guy looked familiar- perhaps he had seen him on the street before. There were thousands of people in New York City, so who's to say that he hadn't. He attempted to take another step up the stairs while still staring at the guy, who was looking at him as well. Lifting his leg up, the heel of his shoe got stuck on the stair as his worst nightmare happened: he fell. He fell down the entire flight of stairs in front of the hottest guy in the world.  
  
Face crimson with embarrassment, Angel yelped as he descended down the staircase, landing face-down on top of the box. As an attempt to remain cool, he tried to stand up, to no avail. He only tripped on his own two feet again, this time falling with his legs over his head.  
  
Sexy dreadlocks guy looked at him, smiling slightly. He had sunglasses on, which seemed odd for the overcast, April day, but Angel looked right into his eyes anyway. Reaching out a chocolate colored hand, he bent down, never breaking eye contact with Angel. "You okay, honey?" he asked as Angel took hold of his hand, getting up and dusting himself off.  
  
The feeling of the man's hand in his own made his entire arm tingle. Giggling like a young girl, Angel got up but was unable to let go of his hand. "Yeah, yeah everything's fine, I just, uh," he couldn't finish what he was saying.  
  
Waiting for Angel to let go of his hand, sexy dreadlocks guy stood and looked at him. After a minute or two, he pulled his hand away, giving him another small smile. Raising an eyebrow, he pulled what looked to be a cigarette out of his pocket and lit it up, "Cool," he said as he walked away, smoking.  
  
Angel watched, eyes wide in awe, as the man walked out the door casually. Looking up the stairs, he saw Mimi at the top with a huge smile on her face. "You're so cool, Ang," she said to him, sarcastically, as she burst out laughing, holding onto the railing for support.  
  
"Shut up!" he squealed, picking his box back up and trudging up the stairs without falling this time.  
  
"He was beautiful, though, I must admit," Mimi said as he reached the top to meet her.  
  
"Beautiful? Honey, he was the most attractive thing I have ever seen!"  
  
"See, now that surprises me," she stated as she held the door to her apartment open so Angel could get himself and the box inside. "He's nothing like those hunks you fuck at Metropolis. He's so."  
  
"Different?" Angel questioned, "Yeah, that's exactly what it is. He's not your standard hot guy, he's got something else going for him."  
  
"You looked at the guy for about 2 minutes. I don't know how you'd be able to tell all of that by him helping you up and smoking a joint."  
  
"He was smoking a joint?" he asked, placing the box down next to him, "I thought it was a cigarette."  
  
"No, that was definitely a joint. I've had them before-I'd know," she stated firmly, shutting the door behind Angel.  
  
"Well, either way, he was hot."  
  
"I totally agree."  
  
"Glad to see we have something in common," Angel giggled as he put his arm around her shoulders, "But here me now: I will sleep with that man if it's the last thing I ever do."  
  
"That's a bit extreme. Do you even know if he's gay?" Mimi asked, laughing at his determination.  
  
"My gaydar has never been so strong," Angel insisted.  
  
"Whatever you say. I'll believe it when I see it."  
  
"I will bet you 200 dollars that he's gay and that we'll have sex eventually," Angel said, sticking out his hand to shake on the bet and make it official.  
  
Sticking out her hand as well, Mimi smiled slyly. "It's official. You are so gonna owe me."  
  
"I wouldn't be too sure about that."  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~/  
  
A/N: Snaps for foreshadowing! Yeah, I might have overdone it a bit, but this "SDG" chapter (don't worry if you don't understand) is something I've been waiting to do for a long time. Thanks to ArchOfWands and Bearfeetz for harassing me until I finished this. Luv u guys =) 


	43. Chapter 42: Another Year Has Gone By

Chapter 42: Another Year Has Gone By.  
  
A 105 pound girl ripping off his blanket and leaping on top of him woke Angel up from a deep, peaceful sleep. Living at Mimi's left him with little privacy, since the door to his tiny, hole-in-the-wall bedroom was broken at the moment. Although his salary from working at Mac was decent, with the electric bills, phone bills, and Angel's clothes and makeup, there wasn't enough money to fix the door.  
  
Letting out a load, annoyed groan, Angel buried his head in the pillow. A tight black tank top hugged his body and baggy black and white checkered pants hung loosely on his hips. It didn't matter that today was June 22nd, Angel Dumott-Schunard's 22nd birthday; it was entirely too early to be awake. He had the week off from work. Melanie was very lenient about giving him time off, since she had hired three new employees since Angel joined. He only worked two or three days every week, leaving plenty of time for him to sit on the sidewalks and drum. He had kept the pickle tubs that he "borrowed" from the Cat Scratch Club and brought them on the sidewalks with him to beat a fabulous beat and collect some extra change. When the weather wasn't too cold, he really loved to sit outside, people watch, and pound on the tubs. It was a satisfying way for him to release his frustration.  
  
"Happy birthday, beautiful. It's time to get up," Mimi whispered in his ear as she sat on top of him, her legs straddled on either side of his body.  
  
Letting out another frustrated groan, Angel pulled the pillow over his head to block out the light and the noise.  
  
Refusing to give up, Mimi continued to sit on top of him and speak right into his ear. "Get up! I have a great present for you!"  
  
Angel didn't budge.  
  
"Fine, Angel. I'll just have to force you to get up," Mimi said casually, tickling his sides.  
  
His head shot up like a rocket. "I'm up!" he squealed as he tried to push her off, to no avail.  
  
"You sure you're really up?" she questioned, a big smile on her face as she continued to tickle him, mercilessly.  
  
"YES!" he yelped in between laughs, "STOP!"  
  
Getting up off of him, she waited for him to get out of bed, which took approximately six seconds. He did not want her to tickle him again. "God I hate it when you do that," he mumbled, wandering over to his closet which was bursting at the seams with clothing. Every morning was a challenge-trying to find the perfect outfit, so as not to repeat the exact same ensemble twice in a month.  
  
"You're so high-maintenance," Mimi grumbled as she stood behind Angel, watching as he selected the right ensemble.  
  
"Damn right I am. I have to look good," Angel stated, simply, as he selected a pink plastic-looking dress with a trim of fuzzy daisies on the bottom. Next to the closet was a large set of drawers. He opened the top drawer and pulled out a rolled up pair of tights. "If you'll excuse me, darling, I need to get ready. The bathroom is officially mine for the next 45 minutes," he informed her as he walked in, locking the door behind him.  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
Ten minutes later, Mimi was dressed and her curls were pulled into a messy knot in the back of her head. An hour later, Angel emerged from the bathroom, dressed in his carefully-select mini-dress, daisy tights, white heels, a bouncy, wavy blonde wig, and a full face of makeup. Checking himself out in the mirror one more time, he fluffed his hair, making sure the flower that he had strategically placed behind his right ear remained there, and then shut the door to the bathroom as he turned to face Mimi. "What do you think?" Angel asked, spinning around so she could see the entire outfit.  
  
"You look fine," Mimi mumbled, barely looking up from her nails, covered in chipping black nailpolish.  
  
"You didn't even look!" Angel whined, standing with his hands on his hips, "Come on. Are you sure I look okay?"  
  
"Damnit, Angel. You always look good. Let's go!" Mimi exclaimed, tearing herself away from her nails, yanking Angel's hand, and dragging him out the door.  
  
"Where are we going? You never told me!" Angel asked, sounding like a little kid as Mimi gripped his hand tightly and led him down the stairs.  
  
"You remember how you were talking about getting your nipple pierced?"  
  
His amber-hazel eyes lit up with excitement. "You're taking me to get it pierced?"  
  
"Happy birthday, baby," Mimi said, as she stopped at the exit to her building to kiss Angel on the cheek. "I'm getting it done with you. It should be fun."  
  
"Ooh!" Angel squealed, gripping her hand even tighter, "I am so excited. You have no idea how bad I want this piercing."  
  
"Yeah, I do, considering you've been talking about it for. oh, I don't know, six months now?"  
  
"Hey, you've been talking about it for a while, too! I'm not the only one," Angel giggled as he continued to walk the couple of blocks with her to the local tattoo and piercing parlor. "Do you think it'll hurt real bad?"  
  
"It shouldn't be too bad," Mimi said, shrugging her shoulders, "I got this done," she stuck out her tongue, "about 2 years ago and it wasn't bad at all. You'll be fine. You're a big, tough man, Ang, you can handle it." Punching him in the shoulder, she winked at him as she said it. She knew more than anyone that Angel was anything but a "big, tough man."  
  
"Mimi, I'm 5'9", 130 pounds, and I cry when someone steps on my foot," Angel replied in a monotone, rolling his eyes at her.  
  
"You're right. You'll be a basket case. But it'll so be worth it. It's really hot."  
  
Continuing on their journey, they laughed and talked, hand in hand, until they arrived at the piercing place.  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~/  
  
Mimi winced slightly as the needle slid through her nipple, watching as the man who pierced her gently slid the ring through the hole.  
  
"You're all set, babe," she said, letting Mimi up off the table. Still topless, Mimi looked down and observed her newly pierced nipples. She liked the look of it: it was fierce and sexy. "Your turn, sweetheart," the woman said, motioning for Angel to get on the table.  
  
Shaking slightly, Angel gave her a nervous smile as he got up. Although he wanted this piercing really, really badly, he wasn't sure if he was willing to go through the pain to get it. He knew better than anybody that he had a fairly low pain tolerance. He wasn't convinced he'd be able to handle a needle going through his nipple.  
  
"You okay?" the lady asked, as she opened a new needle and put on a fresh pair of gloves, "I just wanna make sure you're positive about this before I do it. Nipple piercings take while to heal and if you let it close up, it'll take a long time."  
  
"I'm positive," Angel stated firmly, unzipping the back of his dress and leaning back against the wall.  
  
"Okay. Close your eyes and breathe deeply. I'll let you know when I'm going to do it," the woman said, reassuring him as he shut his eyes and took in a few shaky breaths.  
  
"Breathe in," she said, "I'm going to do it now. Breathe out." She shoved the needle through his right nipple as he breathed out, letting out an almost inaudible yelp.  
  
His eyes popped open brimming with tears. "That wasn't so bad," he sniffled, trying his best to not burst into tears on the spot.  
  
"I told you so, tough guy," Mimi said, holding his hand.  
  
"Here's the care instructions, and feel free to come back if you have a problem," the woman said, thrusting a piece of paper into his hand. "Take care, you two!"  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~/  
  
Once they had gotten about a block from their building, Angel gripped Mimi's hand so hard she had to pull it away. "Ouch! What the fuck was that for?" she snapped.  
  
A few tears fell slowly down his cheeks. "It hurts so bad, Mimi," he choked out, trying his best to be a man, suck it up and deal with the pain.  
  
"God, you are such a baby!" Mimi exclaimed, grabbing his hand and leading him up the stairs.  
  
Entering her apartment, Mimi pushed Angel onto the worn couch and threw an ice cube at him. "Ice your tit," she said sternly.  
  
Angel couldn't help but laugh at her seriousness. "You just told me to ice my tit," he said, giggling.  
  
The two looked at each other, then burst out laughing. After about five minutes of non-stop hysterics, Angel held the ice cube to his swollen nipple as Mimi walked over to the answering machine to check the phone calls. "Ooh! We have a message!" she squealed, playing it back.  
  
"Hey baby. It's me! Happy birthday!" Queenie's cheerful voice chirped from the speaker, "I've got a fabulous present for you, so you need to come by and pick it up. I miss you, hon, I never get to see you anymore! Come by sometime today, Freddy and I will be here. Love you."  
  
Angel smiled as he moved the ice around his nipple. It had been a couple of weeks since he'd even spoken to Queenie, and at least a month or two since he'd seen her. He felt horrible for not spending more time with her, but he'd been so busy. Between his job, the street drumming, and the nights with Mimi at Metropolis, he'd barely had enough time to even make a brief phone call. Today, though, he really wanted to see her. It wasn't every day that he turned 22 and who better to celebrate it with than Queenie?  
  
"Are you gonna go?" Mimi asked, turning off the machine.  
  
"Yeah I'll probably head over there pretty soon-maybe stay for dinner, or something. You wanna come? You haven't met her or Fred yet and they're both dying to finally meet 'that girl I always talk about'."  
  
"I can't tonight. Sorry. I've got some business I need to take care of before I go to the club-Friday's always our busiest night so I really need to go. Some other time, though, I promise. If you let me know ahead of time, I can tell Kenny that I need the night off and I'll go with you."  
  
"Yeah, sure. I'll check with Queenie and Fred and see what day they wanna do it. That would be great!" Angel exclaimed, taking the almost- melted ice cube and throwing it in the trash. "I think I'm gonna freshen up my makeup and then head out."  
  
"Yeah, I should probably go too. I'll see you later baby. Happy birthday," Mimi said, kissing him lightly on the cheek before she headed straight out the door.  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~/  
  
"Queenie? Fred?" Angel called into the empty club, looking around the dimly lit room to see if there was anyone there. This was always his favorite time to come to the club-the space was virtually empty. This was the time right before the sea of sequins and glitter consumed the dance floor, the entire room packed to the point of over-population. Now, the atmosphere was quiet and serene, only faint, soothing music in the background.  
  
Fred walked casually out from behind the stage curtain, standing alone in the center under a dull spotlight. "Hey Ang!" he called, waving at him to come over. Trotting up the stairs, Angel ran up to Fred, practically leaping on top of him in a warm embrace. Fred picked him up, holding him mid-air in his arms. "Haven't seen you around here lately."  
  
"I've been so busy, it's crazy. I've really missed you, though."  
  
"It's not the same without you being around. We miss you too," Fred said, taking his hand and leading him back stage. "Queenie is so excited about you coming today. She got this great birthday present for you and she can't wait to give it to you. You know Queenie-hasn't stopped gushing about it since the day she bought it."  
  
Angel laughed, thinking about the many times when Queenie would obsess over her newest addition to her wardrobe for a week or two, then move on to a new, even better addition. "I can't wait to see her. Are you guys busy at all?"  
  
"Nope, just cleaning up some things, making up a playlist for tonight. The usual. We were actually thinking of heading out for a real early dinner soon. Wanna join us?"  
  
"I'd love to! Actually, I was going to invite you guys to come out with me. I figured I owe you both something since I barely see you anymore."  
  
Fred stopped mid-way to his and Queenie's bedroom, turning to face Angel. "There is no way we're letting you pay on your birthday."  
  
Sighing, Angel continued to follow him to the room. "If you insist."  
  
The door to the bedroom was slightly creaked open and classic Barbara Streisand songs could be heard blaring from the open crack. Fred rolled his eyes slightly, mumbling to Angel, "Sometimes, I'd like to hear something besides Barbara and Cher."  
  
Angel giggled as they entered the room. Queenie sat in front of the mirror, brushing her wig and carefully putting each strand in it's correct place. Fred cleared his throat and Queenie turned around, her eyes lighting up at the sight of Angel. Grinning ear to ear, Angel ran over to her, practically knocking her out of her chair.  
  
"Oh my god, baby, I've missed you so much," Queenie whispered to him, hugging him so tightly, like she would never be able to let go.  
  
"I missed you too. But I'm here now," he told her, breathing in the sweet scent of her perfume and burying his head in her soft wig.  
  
"Hey, don't I get any love?" Fred questioned, still standing in the doorway with his hands on his hips.  
  
Angel and Queenie broke away from each other, walking over to Fred so the three of them could hold each other.  
  
"Well. Now that that's taken care of," Queenie announced, walking back over to her dresser, opening a drawer, and pulling out a beautifully- wrapped box, "I have a fabulous gift for you!"  
  
"You really didn't have to get me anything, you know," Angel said, bashfully.  
  
"He better like this gift, considering you've been talking about it for months on end," Fred mumbled as Queenie walked back over to Angel and handed him the box with a card.  
  
"Read the card later, when we're not around. I have this thing about people reading cards in front of me-I can't stand it," Queenie instructed, watching as he began to tear open the wrapping paper.  
  
Inside the plain, white box was, what appeared to be jewelry of some sort, wrapped in pink tissue paper. Taking it out of the tissue paper, Angel held it up and examined it. A charm with a deeply engraved Chinese symbol sat on the center of the chord, surrounded on either side by few silver beads and an upside-down, purple triangle. The necklace looked fairly simple-a basic, silver chord with metal charms, but as he examined it closer, he noticed that there were tiny diamonds at the base of the triangles, and one in the corner of the Chinese charm. The necklace must have been expensive.  
  
"It's a Chinese symbol that means love and security. It's kind of hard to explain what it means in English, but it's one of the few symbols that I remember from the language. I bought it a few months ago at this craft fair that Fred and I went to. This woman had the most exquisite jewelry I'd ever seen, and I thought this was perfect. She had a couple "gay pride" necklaces, but this seemed a lot more personal and subtle. I hate those screaming rainbow necklaces that everyone seems to be wearing these days."  
  
"Queenie, this is beautiful," Angel said softly, completely in awe of how beautiful the gift was and how much meaning it had to him, "I can't believe you got something this nice for me. It's amazing."  
  
"I'm so glad you like it. I was worried you would think it was too flashy, or 'not your taste' or something. You're very difficult to shop for, Ang," Queenie explained.  
  
"I'm never going to take it off. I love it so much. Thank you!" he hugged both of them one more time, gripping tightly on to the necklace.  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~/  
  
Stumbling into his apartment completely full from eating entirely too much at dinner with Queenie and Fred, Angel plopped down on the couch and leaned back. Mimi was still working at the club so he had the place to himself. He loved Mimi, but sometimes it was nice to be alone. He looked down at the envelope in his hand, examining it for a minute, debating whether or not he wanted to open it now or later. Realizing that he had absolutely nothing better to do, he gingerly tore open the envelope and pulled the card out. It had the same symbol on the front as the charm on his necklace-the Chinese symbol for love and security.  
  
Dear Angel,  
  
I can't believe you're already twenty-two. I remember back when you were seventeen, when you first came to the club. You were this scared, innocent kid who'd had far too much trauma for someone so young. I'm so grateful that you came that day because you've brought a joy into my life that nobody else could have, or ever will. You've brought this love into my life that not even Fred can give me. In every way I can think of, you're my son. I love you as if I were your own mother and you were my child-there will never be anybody in this world who means as much to me as you do.  
I miss having you here with Fred and me. You light up our lives with this infectious energy that you have-whenever you walk into a room, the entire place lights up. I know sometimes both he and I are a bit hard on you, but it's all out of love. I want you to have all the things that I never did and I want you to be the happiest person alive.  
It's hard to believe how much you've matured since we first met. I hardly even recognize you. You've turned into this beautiful, intelligent, articulate young man and I'm so proud of you. I hope that you have many more years of happiness ahead for you. I love you baby, Happy birthday.  
  
Love always and forever,  
  
Queenie.  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
A/N: Another chapter done! Rent is coming up soon. only 4 more chapters, and then Collins comes into the picture. I really never thought I'd get this far. Thanks to all of you who've been loyal readers. The next chapter should be up within a week, maybe sooner. I've had a lot of time lately. As always (this should go without saying by now) review PLEASE, and I hope you enjoyed this one. 


	44. Chapter 43: You're Full Of Shit

43: You're Full Of Shit   
"Oh my God! You two are adorable!" Queenie squealed as she ran over to Mimi and Angel, hugging them both. "Angel told us so much about you. I can't believe I'm finally getting to meet you." Instead of a formal handshake, she scooped Mimi up into her arms, squeezing her. "Forgive me. I tend to get sort of, well, excited. I'm Queenie."   
"I figured. He's told me a lot about you too. He talks about you and Fred almost non-stop, when we're not talking about shopping." Mimi and Angel looked at each other and laughed.   
"I'll go get Freddy. I bet he'll be glad to meet you," Queenie said, scampering back behind the stage to find her partner.   
"She is.lively, Angel, you were right. Kind of intense."   
"Isn't she fabulous?" Angel gushed, "She is a bit much, but you learn to love her for it. I knew she'd like you. She likes all my friends that I bring to her.except she didn't like Will at first."   
"My my, she is pretty," a deep voice boomed from behind Mimi. Turning around, startled, she came face to chest with the huge man in front of her. He was insanely attractive. Rippling, muscular brown arms popped out from the straps of his thin, white tank top. His finely-toned abs showed through the material and baggy jeans sat low on his hips. Deep, rich brown eyes looked down at her, dazzling white teeth showing as he smiled. Mimi blushed slightly, completely in awe of how gorgeous he was. Holding out his large hand to her, he continued to smile as he introduced himself. "I'm Fred."   
"Mimi," she said, nonchalantly, trying her best to not stumble over her words as she shook his hand.   
"So, shall we go out to eat, now that everyone's acquainted?" Queenie chimed in.   
"Yeah, sounds good," Fred agreed letting go of Mimi's hand and wrapping his arm protectively around Queenie. "Where to?"   
"I am really in the mood for cheap Asian dining. Chinese Paradise sound good to everyone?"   
"Sure," they agreed in unison, following Queenie as she left the club, locking the door once the three had trailed out after her. *--*--*--*--*--*--*--*--*--*--*--*--*--*--*--*--*--*--*--*--*--*--*--*--*-- *--*--*--*--*--*--   
"So we all know about Angel's love life, but, Mimi, tell us about yours. Are you seeing anybody?" Queenie asked, eating another piece of General Tso's Chicken. The group had just finished a rather detailed discussion of Angel's last sexual partner-a hunky black guy who's name he didn't manage to catch. Queenie and Fred both weren't pleased with Angel's lifestyle, but they couldn't necessarily criticize him for what he was doing, considering that they both had similar behaviors at his age, before they met each other. However, he had been going clubbing a lot less lately, ever since he moved in with Mimi. It was only a bi-weekly event and he rarely stayed the night at a stranger's apartment anymore.   
Mimi sighed, glancing down into her coke and stirring it with the straw. "Yeah, I've actually been kinda seeing this guy," she said softly, avoiding eye contact with any of them.   
"Yeah and I haven't even met him yet!" Angel stated, dramatically crossing his arms and staring at her.   
"Well, actually I was gonna have him over tonight so you could meet him. I was gonna surprise you, Ang."   
"Aww, Mimi, honey that's so sweet!" Queenie exclaimed, "So tell us about him! What's he like? Is he cute?"   
"Well, his name's Benny. He's really cute and really funny. I met him at work and we've been dating ever since."   
"Well, honey, I'm very happy for you. It's nice to know that someone hasn't given up hope of falling in love," Queenie stated, glancing over in Angel's direction.   
"Hey, I have not given up home!" Angel responded back, defensively, "It's just that there's no harm in having sex while I wait, that's all."   
That elicited a few laughs from everyone. "Just be careful Ang."   
"Okay, Dad," Angel responded, rolling his eyes at Fred.   
Mimi looked at the clock above Angel's chair and noticed that it was getting late. "I really need to go. Benny's coming by the apartment at 8 and I don't wanna keep him waiting. You coming, Ang?"   
"Yeah. Thanks for dinner, guys. It was fabulous," Angel said, getting up from his chair and giving them both a kiss on the cheek. "I'll be back to visit soon, no worries."   
"Bye Ang. Love you! It was nice to meet you, Mimi."  
  
"You too," Mimi said, grabbing her coat off the back of the chair as she rushed out of the restaurant holding Angel's hand. Benny didn't like to be kept waiting. "Bye."  
  
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Flashing lights interrupted Mimi and Angel's quick walk home. An ambulance sat outside their building with the back doors open. Paramedics carried out a stretcher with a white sheet over it, obviously hiding a lifeless body. Stopping abruptly, they looked at each other concerned. There weren't that many people living in their building. What if someone they knew personally had died?  
  
"Should we go in?" Mimi whispered to him, still clutching his hand, unsure of what to do.  
  
"I guess so. What else can we do, stand here like spectators?" Angel responded, biting his lip.  
  
The two bravely held hands and walked by the ambulance. The sexy man with the dreadlocks stood with his arm around a tall, pale man with sloppy blonde hair. Despite the obviously tragic circumstances, Angel couldn't help but stare at the man. He was still so captivated by him, no matter how sad or upset he looked.  
  
Mimi pinched his arm, hard. "Angel, stop it!"  
  
Blushing, embarrassed that he was trying to pick up a guy who'd just obviously lost someone important to him, Angel responded. "Sorry," he muttered as they ducked into the building and marched up the stairs, unsure of what to say.  
  
A black man with a shaved head stood at the door to Mimi and Angel's apartment. It was easy to tell, even from the back, that he was built and in good form. A tight, blue t-shirt hugged his sculpted body, a pair of loose-fitting jeans covering his legs. In his left ear was a large, silver hoop.  
  
"Benny?" Mimi asked softly as he turned around deep brown eyes staring at hers.  
  
"Hey," he said casually as he kissed her on the cheek.  
  
"Do you know what happened out there?" Mimi asked, concerned, as she dropped Angel's hand and took hold of Benny's.  
  
"Yeah, my friend's girlfriend died," Benny said, as if it were nothing.  
  
"Oh my god," Angel gasped, softly.  
  
"You know what? I really don't wanna talk about it. I was just waiting here because I have somewhere I need to be. You said you wanted me to meet your friend-I'd assume that's you?" he said, looking in Angel's direction.  
  
"Yeah, I'm Angel. I heard a lot about you."  
  
"Like what?" Benny asked, looking confused, "Look, I gotta go. Sorry. I'll see you tomorrow." He kissed her, barely touching her lips, then disappeared down the stairs.  
  
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Mimi let Angel walk inside in front of her, closing the door behind her. With a confused look still on face, Angel turned to look at her as she began to take off the leather sleeves she was wearing. She had about five pairs of them, considering that it was part of her daily work uniform. "Gosh, it's hot," she remarked.  
  
"Well, it's July," Angel replied as he watched her remove them, noticing the marks on her arm, clear as day. His face fell. "Mimi."  
  
"Angel," she said back, mocking his serious tone. Tossing the sleeves over the back of the couch, she stepped besides Angel to grab a cold beer out of the fridge.  
  
"What's that?" he asked, trying as hard as he could to not explode at her for using drugs. She knew how he felt about drug use, especially heroin, after what had happened with Will. He couldn't bear to see it destroy another person he loved.  
  
"This? Angel," she said slowly, "this is a beer."  
  
He rolled his eyes, annoyed at her inability to notice the serious tone in his voice. "I didn't mean the beer, Mimi. I meant those marks on your arm."  
  
"I just got in a fight with a girl at work," Mimi explained, casually, brushing off Angel's concern, "You would not believe this chucha. She calls me a slut for dancing on some guy, but I only -."  
  
"Don't lie to me. They're track marks. Both of us know it."  
  
Mimi looked away from him, taking a large gulp of beer.  
  
"Why are you doing that?" he asked quietly, trying his hardest to contain his anger.  
  
"And who are you to tell me what to do? Like you know any better?" she snapped.  
  
"Mimi, I'm 22 fucking years old, I know a hell of a lot more than you do. I know that drugs fuck people up and that dating men who are twenty years older than me isn't going to help the situation."  
  
"Just because your ex-boyfriend fucked up his life with heroin doesn't mean that I'm going to do the same thing. I just like to feel good now and then, that's all. And why the fuck are you dragging Benny into this? He didn't do anything-you barely even know him!" She was getting angrier now as she finished her beer and slammed the bottle down on their scratched-up wooden table. She whipped out a pack of cigarettes and a lighter, quickly inhaling the foul-smelling smoke.  
  
"You're right, I don't know him, but I can tell from just meeting him for a minute that he doesn't give two shits about you."  
  
"And the guys you fuck care about you?" she asked sarcastically, breathing in more smoke from her cigarette.  
  
"This isn't about me," he said quietly, looking away from her for a minute, "This is about you and how you're screwing up your life. Stop doing drugs and stop dating people who don't care about you. First Chase, and now Benny. You have such a wonderful family and you're leaving all of that behind because you want to be bad. You want drama, Mimi, and you're getting it. Only, you're never going to be happy this way. You're never going to be happy with these hot guys who don't give a fuck and you're never going to be happy as some drug-addicted junkie."  
  
"Maybe that's true, Angel," Mimi said, even more calmly than before, "Maybe I do like drama. But I've never claimed to want love. I've never sat around and said how 'I have faith that someday, my real true soul mate will come along.' Ring any bells for you, Angel? Because I think you've given up on that."  
  
Breathing in heavily and shutting his eyes, Angel clenched his fists. "I told you, this isn't about me."  
  
"Oh, see, but now it is. You've just completely bashed my life, so now it's my turn to bash yours. What happened to the Angel that I first met who believed in fairy-tale love and prince charming, huh? Where did that wonderful dream of being with one amazing man for the rest of your life go?"  
  
"It doesn't matter anymore," he mumbled softly.  
  
"Obviously, because you're giving up. You're giving up on everything. You don't even take AZT."  
  
He stared at her intensely, his deep eyes burning holes through her body, "I'm not giving up."  
  
"So you're just going to sit there and watch as your body wastes away? I hear you at night, Angel. I hear that coughing before you go to bed and I see you getting just a little bit thinner every day. You're killing yourself, did you know that?"  
  
"I want to live out the rest of my days in peace-no drugs, no hospitals, no doctors! I just want to be free and happy for the remainder of my life."  
  
"You're cutting it short. And you think that going out and fucking random asshole twinkies is going to help make your life happy and free? You're miserable. I see it in your eyes."  
  
"You wouldn't understand!" he yelled, pushing her away from him with a surprising amount of force.  
  
"What do you mean 'I wouldn't understand.'? I've got the same thing as you do! You're not the only person on this earth with HIV, Angel. We all know what you're going through and you're being a self-centered little prick by not letting anyone help you."  
  
He sighed again, trying to process what she had just said. "At least I'm drug-free," he said, in a bitter voice.  
  
"At least I'm going to live. You know what? It's a good thing you gave up on love because with the way you think, you're never going to find it. You're just a self-obsessed, pathetic little faggot who will never be happy because the only the person you care about is you."  
  
Tears stung his eyes as she spoke. She'd never called him a faggot before-nobody who he loved had ever called him such a cruel name. He smoothed his wig down and spun around, leaving the apartment.  
  
"Where are you going?" she asked.  
  
"I only care about myself, right? So why would this self-centered faggot tell you where he was off to?"  
  
"Angel, I-."  
  
"Fuck you, Mimi," he growled as he left the apartment, shutting the door so hard behind him that he heard glass shattering.  
  
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A/N: Hooray for fights! This took me about ten minutes to write. It all just kind of spilled out at once. 47 is when RENT starts, for anyone who's interested, so there's only 3 more chapters to go until Collins REALLY comes into the picture. As always, read, review and let me know what you think. The next chapter should be up shortly. Sorry for the wait on this one. Another thank you goes to Damien D. Smith, who I just saw a week or so ago in RENT. The way he plays Angel is EXACTLY the way I see the character and he was absolutely amazing. I was blown away. So thanks to Damien for making me very happy and playing Angel exactly the way he should be played =) 


	45. Chapter 44: Thanks For Everything

Chapter 44: Thanks For Everything.  
  
The slamming of the door rang in his ears as he walked, angrily, out of the building. "How dare she say that about me!" Angel thought to himself, "It isn't even true. I do care about other people besides myself. And I'm not a pathetic faggot."  
  
He grumbled to himself the entire walk to Metropolis. In the heat of the moment, he'd forgotten bus money so he was forced to walk-at least it was nice weather outside. Stuffing his hands into the glittering jeans he was wearing, he kept his head down, focusing on the concrete beneath his feet. His face burned from getting so angry-it had been years since he'd gotten in such a heated argument with another person. Usually, he was passive and never yelled back. With Mimi, it had taken all of his strength to not hit her.  
  
His tight, red T-shirt rode up a little bit, exposing a small band of tan skin. He yanked down the shirt, continuing to walk down the blocks to the club. Six blocks and a bottle of water later, the neon electric letter glowing "Metropolis" beckoned him. If all else failed, he thought to himself, he could always get a decent blowjob in the back room. Considering how early it was for the club crowd, the line was still reasonably long. It wrapped around the corner of the building and partially down the block. Impatient and unwilling to wait in line, Angel looked down the queue to see if he knew anybody. Luckily, he recognized the doorman who he had hooked up with last week. He wasn't in the mood to talk to anybody, only to get a quick fuck to make himself feel better, but he put on a happy face as he approached him. Winking at him, he walked to the front of the string of people and placed his hand discretely on the doorman's thigh. The man smiled at him, showing an array of perfectly polished teeth. "I remember you," he said quietly to Angel in a deep, gravely voice, "You were good."  
  
Angel put on a big fake smile and slipped him a ten-dollar bill.  
  
"Go ahead." He opened the door as Angel walked through.  
  
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The familiar scent of the glistening, sweaty bodies swept Angel up as he entered the club. Lights blinking and men grinding greeted him. Breathing a sigh of relief, Angel smiled slightly-no matter how angry he was at Mimi, being at Metropolis always made him feel better. Now, it was time for tonight's mission: A hot guy for Angel to have sex with. He ran a hand through his short, black hair and scanned the room for tonight's fuck. He figured that having hot sex would be the best way to brighten his bitter mood. Sauntering onto the dance floor, he spotted the one he wanted. He was a generic-looking guy-definitely hot, but not exotic or special by any means-with washboard abs, spiked blonde hair, and deep green eyes. Catching his attention, Angel walked over to him quickly, grabbed the twinkie by his arm, and pulled him down. He kissed him hard and aggressively. Letting him go, the guy stood up and smiled at Angel. He smiled back, yanking the man back down to his level to kiss him again. The men began to kiss, exploring each other's mouths with their tongues.  
  
What happened to wanting to be in love, Angel?  
  
The words echoed loudly in his head. Shaking them off, he broke away from the kiss and grabbed the guy's hand. "Come on," he mumbled into his ear as the guy followed him off the dance floor.  
  
Mimi's speech still swirled around in his brain while they joined the ranks of horny boys in the dark back room. With every touch and kiss from his man of the minute, Paul's words from a few months ago, and Mimi's from only hours before kept pounding into his head. Minute Man began to lift up Angel's shirt, showering his chest with kisses as he moved down to the waistband of his pants.  
  
When you first moved in with me, you kept talking about how you wanted this fairy-tale romance and how you wanted to find your prince charming. All you've done is fuck around, insisting that this is what you want: meaningless sex, and nothing more. I don't believe it for a second.  
  
Angel leaned his head back, taking a deep breath in and moaning in pleasure as the man unzipped his pants. Pulling them down to his ankles, he got down on his knees and began to pull Angel's briefs off. Angel smiled-the man knew what he was doing.  
  
What happened to the Angel that I first met who believed in fairy- tale love and prince charming, huh? Where did that wonderful dream of being with one amazing man for the rest of your life go?  
  
"Shut up," Angel mumbled harshly as the man pulled away from him for a minute.  
  
"Shut up who?" the guy asked, confused.  
  
"No one," he answered, pushing the guy's head back down, "keep going." The man went back to work and Angel shut his eyes once more, but the voice would not go away.  
  
It's a good thing you gave up on love because with the way you think, you're never going to find it. You're just a self-obsessed, pathetic little faggot who will never be happy because the only the person you care about is you.  
  
No matter how good the blowjob felt, Angel couldn't enjoy the pleasure. He'd had it. "I'm sorry," he said to the guy, yanking him up off his knees and pulling up his own pants, "I can't."  
  
Green eyes narrowed into angry slits. "What do you mean 'I can't,'?" he asked, mocking Angel's high, feminine voice.  
  
"I'm sorry, I just can't. I.I have to go."  
  
"Hey!" the guy shouted at him as he began to leave, "You were the one that kissed me! You little fucking slut!"  
  
The words stung slightly, but not as much as the speech from Mimi still ringing in his head. "I'm sorry," he apologized again.  
  
"You're a fucking tease. Fuck you, whore."  
  
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"I can't even let some guy suck me off!" Angel exclaimed to himself, grumbling as he put his shirt back on before he exited the back room. Once the shirt was over his head, he attempted to walk through the doorway, only to be greeted head-on by the wall. SMACK!  
  
"FUCK!" he yelled out loud, rubbing the spot where his forehead had made contact with the plaster.  
  
"Gladly," a young guy said to him as he walked by.  
  
Angel rolled his eyes and kept walking, this time careful to avoid the wall. What he didn't avoid, however, was the brick wall of a man standing in front of him. Similar to the wall only minutes ago, Angel collided full-force with the man, increasing his anger and frustration to a new level.  
  
"GOD FUCKING DAMN-Will?" Angel asked, shocked.  
  
"Angel?" he questioned, his soft deep voice bringing back a flood of memories.  
  
"Oh my god!" he squealed, leaping into Will's arms and wrapping his legs around him.  
  
"Nice to see you too," he laughed, putting Angel down as they both sat at the bar.  
  
"Can we leave?" Angel asked eagerly.  
  
"Sure," Will replied as they walked out the front door together.  
  
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"So how have you been?" Angel asked him as they walked aimlessly down the block.  
  
"Okay. I got out from rehab a couple months ago and I've been living on my own in a little apartment a few blocks from here. I'm surprised I haven't run into you before."  
  
"Yeah, I'm surprised too. Are you still, you know, clean?"  
  
He smiled warmly, looking directly at Angel. "I have been for over a year. The only thing I'll ever do is drink, on occasion. I've really been trying to stay clean. It's not easy, but it gets better every day."  
  
"I'm so proud of you," Angel said, hugging him in the middle of the sidewalk.  
  
"So what are you up to? I figured you'd be at Life Support or something."  
  
"How do you know about Life Support?" Angel questioned, confused.  
  
"Oh, I've been talking to Queenie and Fred. They came to visit me a few times in rehab, didn't they tell you?"  
  
"No," he responded, puzzled but happy. It warmed his heart to know that Queenie and Fred had put aside any hard feelings towards Will and had helped him get through the rehab process. "But I'm glad they came to see you. I'm happy that you all decided to finally become friends."  
  
"Me too," he said vaguely, with a distant smile on his face.  
  
"Well, I was planning on going to Life Support. I work at Mac on 12th street and 4th avenue and I usually go straight from work, but tonight I went out to dinner with Queenie, Fred, and Mimi. Did they tell you about Mimi?" he asked. Just saying her name made his fists clench with anger.  
  
"They mentioned that you were living with a girl. I thought you had turned hetero on me for a minute, but Queenie assured me she was just a friend."  
  
"Honestly, Will. Could I ever pass for a heterosexual?" Angel asked, standing with his hands on his hips and his head cocked to the side.  
  
Will raised an eyebrow at him. "Good point," he agreed.  
  
"Anyway, Mimi's a friend that I met after you. well, you know. anyway, she'd never met Fred or Queenie so I took her to meet them earlier tonight. Then I met her boyfriend and we got in a really big fight."  
  
"You and her boyfriend? Now that I would like to see."  
  
Angel laughed. "No, me and Mimi. She was really mean to me and I just left. I got up and walked out and I went to Metropolis."  
  
"What did you guys fight about?" Will asked, looking genuinely concerned.  
  
"Since I got diagnosed, I've been going out a lot. Like, I've been meeting a lot of guys and I've been 'having a good time' if you know what I mean." Will nodded, a bit surprised at Angel's behavior. He figured that after Angel got diagnosed he would have become very reclusive, if anything. The promiscuity was a shock. "Anyway, everyone seems to have a problem with it. I got in a fight with Paul, the guy who leads the Life Support meetings, a few months ago over it and Mimi and I just fought about it today."  
  
"So she doesn't approve, then."  
  
"No. And I don't understand what the problem is. It's my body, it's my life. I don't know why, if I want to go out and have sex and not take my AZT, Mimi has to get on my case about it. She's a junkie-did I tell you that?"  
  
Will's eyes narrowed slightly at the mention of her being a junkie. "What did you say when you found out she was?"  
  
"I just noticed the marks today. I told her how I don't approve of it and how she's fucking up her life by dating guys she doesn't care about and taking a drug that'll kill her if she's not careful."  
  
Will stood in silence for a minute, then spoke. "But it's her body and it's her life."  
  
Staring at him, Angel blinked a couple of times, shaking his head. "Why do you always have to be right?"  
  
"Well, it's true," Will reasoned, "If you're going to get mad at her for telling you that you can't have sex and you need to take your AZT, she has every right to get mad at you for telling her she can't date this guy and she can't take heroin. To be honest, I don't really approve of anything either of you are doing. You're going to die faster if you don't take the AZT and that's the truth."  
  
"Listen, I just-."  
  
"And I know you. I know that you value your life, no matter how much you want it to seem like you're this hopeless case. You're not. And I don't think that having promiscuous hot sex is going to solve your problem. On the other hand, you know how I feel about drugs. Obviously, this Mimi doesn't know the real side effects of heroin. If she did, she'd stop. If I had known what a mess I would have gotten myself into when I started, I never would have touched the needle. And if this guy's treating her like shit, then she should listen to you and not date him. But it's hard to listen to someone when they're hypocritical, which you are being right now."  
  
Angel stood quietly, processing what Will had said. With all the anger and emotion behind Mimi's and Paul's words, Angel didn't truly get the message-with Will, he did. Will had absolutely no angry feeling towards him whatsoever. He was an outside observer who made perfect sense. Cracking his knuckles, Angel stared at him. "I want to be in love," he said in a small, meek voice.  
  
"I know you do. You're not like most other gay guys. Not to put us all in one, giant stereotype, but the fact is that a lot of gay guys don't want a loving, monogamous relationship. You do, and it's hard for you to find that in this kind of a community. But, as I said, sleeping around isn't going to help that. It's only going to make you feel even more lonely."  
  
"You're right. You're completely right."  
  
Will smiled at him. "I don't want to hurt you, I just want you to know the truth." He stopped in front of a small brick building with crumbling concrete stairs. "This is my place. You wanna come up?"  
  
"I'd love to."  
  
The two walked up the stairs (there was no elevator) to the fifth floor, where Will put his key into the rusty keyhole. As they entered, Angel wandered around looking at the rundown, cozy apartment. It was a small studio-obviously only meant for one person to live there. A small kitchenette sat in the corner with a once-white refrigerator and a stove caked in burnt residue. The overhead light illuminated the space, shining its rays into the tiny, dark bathroom. "Have a seat," Will said, motioning for him to sit on the bed.  
  
Obeying, Angel sat down and still continued to let his eyes wander. "It's a nice space," he remarked.  
  
"Yeah, it's cheap, too. And it's away from Chad and his buddies-that was my main concern. I never want to see any of them again."  
  
The mention of Chad's name once again brought back a flood of memories for Angel. As if the rape had happened all over again, Angel could feel the cold stiffness of Chad's arms around him and the pain of Chad forcing himself inside of him. He tensed, hugging his knees to his chest and shutting his eyes, as if by closing them he would shut out the memory. No such luck.  
  
"Hey," Will said, sitting down next to him, "you okay?"  
  
Will put his arm around him and Angel tensed up even more.  
  
"I'm sorry I mentioned him." He moved his arm away.  
  
Sniffling, Angel looked to his right, staring into Will's sympathetic eyes. "I'm really tired. Can we just. you know. sleep together?"  
  
Smiling, Will answered, "Of course." He got up off the bed and fished through his drawers, tossing Angel a pair of thin blue sweatpants. "These are probably more comfortable than those jeans."  
  
Thanking him, Angel went into the bathroom and changed quickly. When he came out, Will was lying in the bed next to the wall, motioning for Angel to come in next to him. Curled up right next to him, Angel lay and held Will's hand, which was wrapped around his shoulders.  
  
"Thanks," Angel whispered as they both drifted off to sleep.  
  
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"I really need to call Queenie," Angel grumbled as he sat up in bed. Will was already awake and making coffee. "She'll be glad to know I ran into you-literally."  
  
"Yeah, she'll be worried if she doesn't know where you are. You know the way she is."  
  
"Just looking out for your well being," the two said in unison, laughing at the way the both knew all-to-well what Queenie said.  
  
"I think I should start looking for a new place," Angel remarked as he took a sip of the coffee Will had poured for him. "Damn, that's hot," he said, taking milk out of the refrigerator and dumping it into the coffee.  
  
"You can't make up with Mimi?"  
  
"After what she called me? I don't think so. And even if we did make up, I can't live with somebody like that. I can't live with an addict." Immediately after he said the last sentence, he felt bad about it. "Sorry, I didn't mean--."  
  
"It's okay, I know what you meant. I'm not offended. You don't need to walk on eggshells around me, I can take it."  
  
"I know, I'm sorry. It's just that I have one person really mad at me and I didn't want to add to the list."  
  
Will smiled, "It's okay." He poured himself another cup of coffee. "So, look in here. There's some good apartments and stuff. Maybe you can find something around Queenie and Fred. It's a neat neighborhood."  
  
"Yeah, I could never leave the East Village. It's been my home since I was 17." Opening up the circulars, he scanned the page for something interesting.  
  
"Ooh! This sounds nice," he remarked, reading to Will what it said, "Small living room/dining room, full kitchen 1 bath, 1 bedroom."  
  
"That does sound nice. Maybe you've struck gold on the first one."  
  
"Wow, this sounds really nice. It's on 11th street and Avenue A. That's really close to where I am now. I think Paul's apartment is just down the block!" Angel was getting very excited over the possibility of living near his friends and having his own place.  
  
"Call Queenie and let her know. Maybe she'll go apartment hunting with you, or something."  
  
Angel pouted slightly and put down the paper. "You won't go with me?"  
  
"I wish I could, but I have work to do. Since I've been back from rehab, I got a job at the hospital, of all places. Would you believe it? Anyway, I've been giving the meds and stuff to the patients. I work mostly in the children's wing and I've met some real sweet kids there. I'm only supposed to work from 9-5, but I like to stay later and spend some extra time with the kids. The hospital staff is really great about it."  
  
"That sounds like a good job. Do you get paid okay there?"  
  
"I wish I could find a job that paid more, just because it's so hard to make rent with such a small salary, but the hospital is very rewarding. I think I'd rather work somewhere that pays less and enjoy it than work somewhere I hated so I could get a bigger salary."  
  
"That's a good point," Angel agreed, "That's why I love Mac. I get paid well and I get to do something I enjoy. You have no idea how fabulous it is to know that I contributed to the makeover of a middle-aged straight woman."  
  
Will laughed. "Sounds like fun. I'll have to stop by and see you in action some time."  
  
"Definitely. Now that I'm getting my own place, I think I'll talk to Mel and see if I can work more hours to pay rent and stuff."  
  
"That's a good idea."  
  
"Shit, I really should call Queenie," Angel mumbled as he picked up the phone and dialed her number. "Hello Fred? Hey, it's Angel.not much, I actually stayed at Will's last night.yeah I ran into him at the club.I got in a fight with Mimi, that's why I was there.I don't wanna talk about it right now, I'll explain later. Is Queenie home?.well, I wanted to go apartment hunting and she always said that when I bought my first place she wanted to come with me.Okay, tell her to meet me out front and we'll go.Thanks Fred.love you too, bye."  
  
"That was fast," Will commented as he went into the bathroom to get changed.  
  
"Yeah, Queenie's still getting ready. I thought I took a long time to get ready in the morning. She's impossible!"  
  
"I have a hard time believing that anyone is worse than you," Will said as he came out, dressed in a white polo shirt and pressed khaki pants.  
  
"Oh believe me. It's possible," Angel assured him. "Look, I'm gonna get going. Fred said she'd be ready in ten minutes."  
  
"You know with her that probably means 20 or 30 minutes."  
  
"True, but I'd rather early than fashionably late. Queenie always says that late is never fashionable."  
  
"Yeah, I'm gonna head out too. I'll walk you there," Will offered as he and Angel left the apartment.  
  
*--*--*--*--*--*--*--*--*--*--*--*--*--*--*--*--*--*--*--*--*--*--*--*--*-- *--*--*--*--*--*--  
  
A couple of blocks later, the men were outside the front of the club. "Will?"  
  
"Yeah."  
  
"I just want to thank you," Angel said, cracking hi knuckles.  
  
"For what?" he asked, confused.  
  
"For everything."  
  
*--*--*--*--*--*--*--*--*--*--*--*--*--*--*--*--*--*--*--*--*--*--*--*--*-- *--*--*--*--*--*--  
  
A/N: So I didn't have the heart to cut Will completely out of the picture, plus I have some very interesting scenes planned between him and Collins for later hehe =) As always, read and review, and thanks again to everyone who is STILL keeping up with this story. Collins is coming up soon, hang in there!!!! 


	46. Chapter 45: Breakups and Makeups

Chapter 45: Breakups and Makeups  
  
"Ang, this is a great apartment! I can't believe you were lucky enough to get it!" Queenie exclaimed. Since today was Labor Day (one of the few days that Club Tran wasn't open), Queenie had decided to take the day to spend some quality time with Angel and move his stuff into his new home. Just two months ago, she had helped him pick it out. Since then, she'd been coming over as often as possible to help him get settled. Most of the bags and boxes had been moved in already, but it was the unpacking that would prove to be the real work. Angel had more stuff than anybody she knew and for a boy who had come to the East Village with only two small bags six years ago, he had certainly accumulated a lot of belongings. As he had explained to her, his wardrobe was organized first by season, then by item, then by color. She picked up a box marked "Winter drag bottoms white, black, red" and opened it up, revealing a black, white, and red array of neatly-folded clothing.   
  
"I'm really excited about it," he gushed anxiously, as he sat down on the king-sized bed that he had just recently bought. A few weeks ago, he and Will were outside together between Angel's job at Mac and the hours where he was street-drumming when they saw a billboard for cheap new beds with same-day delivery. Before they knew it, Will was helping the movers haul the king-size mattress up the six flights of stairs to Angel's new apartment. The bed was, by far, the cheapest thing they could find and, for what it cost, it wasn't terribly uncomfortable. A few lumps here and there and an awfully bouncy mattress were worth the great deal of money they saved.   
  
2 empty closets in the bedroom would soon be home to rainbow racks of clothing, as would 3 empty dressers. Angel made sure that he had enough storage space for all of his clothes before he had even considered moving his belongings in. This was going to be the first night he would spend alone in his new place. Since the fight with Mimi back in July, he'd been living with Will, coming back to Mimi's place only when he knew she wouldn't be home so that he could get whatever supplies he needed for the next few days. Mimi had been calling Will's apartment. Angel assumed she got the number from Queenie and Fred. She left message after message apologizing for the way she talked to him and saying that she missed having him around to talk to. No matter how much he wanted to pick up the phone every time he heard her voice on the answering machine, he couldn't bring himself to do it. Although he had stopped his promiscuity all together since then, he still wasn't taking his AZT and he knew that reconnecting with Mimi would only mean putting up with even more nagging about it that he couldn't handle. He got enough of that from Queenie, Fred, and Will—he didn't need it from anyone else. Also, he couldn't bring himself to be friends with a junkie. After seeing what devastation and destruction could occur from heroin with Will, Angel refused to let the drug rob another friend of her life.  
  
"So how are you planning on storing all of this stuff in this place of yours?" Queenie asked him as she unpacked the clothes, stacking them in perfectly folded piles on top of the bed.   
  
"That's a good question," Angel answered, smiling as he picked up the more formal skirts made of finer fabrics and hung them on the wooden hangers. Buying packs and packs of wooden hangers had cost Angel almost a week's worth of drumming money, but it was worth it. If there's one thing he wished every queen would know, it's that good clothes should never ever hang on anything but fine wood.  
  
"I swear to God, Angel, you have far too many clothes for someone who barely had anything six years ago," Queenie mumbled, helping him put the clothes on hangers.  
  
"I didn't know what I was missing."  
  
Angel pulled out another box of clothes, this one marked "Jeans." His collection of denim had its own box all to itself.  
  
"So Will told me you two have been seeing a lot of each other lately," Queenie remarked as the two continued to unpack, unfold, and refold clothes.  
  
"Yeah, I've been spending a lot of time with him since Mimi and I had that fight. I'm so glad that we're friends again. I really missed him and I'm so proud of him. You know, with staying clean and everything."  
  
"I'm proud of him too. He told me that you were shocked to hear that he and I had been writing to each other while he was in rehab."  
  
"Yeah. Last I remember, you could barely stand him," Angel said, looking straight at Queenie. She kept her eyes cast down on the bed, trying to completely absorb herself in the box of sequined dresses she was unpacking. "Well, obviously something made you change your mind, whatever it was. He's a really great guy and I'm glad you finally realized that."  
  
"Ang, you have to admit that if you were in my position and someone had hurt the person you love most like that, it would take you a long time to forgive him."  
  
"I know. I know he screwed up, but underneath it all, he's a great guy. He's the best friend I've ever had and, after all we've been through, the fact that we can still be around each other and still feel completely comfortable says a lot about our relationship."  
  
"It does. And I like him a lot. He's been good to Fred and I over the past year or so and I'm glad that he's part of our family again." She smiled as she hung up a bright, glittering pink dress. "So what's the deal with Mimi?"  
  
Slightly frustrated, Angel sighed and put down the pile of clothes he was carrying. "There is no deal. I haven't talked to her since we had that fight back in July."  
  
"You know, you really should get over whatever petty differences you two have and deal with it. She's a good friend to you."  
  
"She was a good friend to me. Nobody can say what she said to me and expect me to forgive and forget just like that."  
  
"You know what? You needed to hear what she said, Angel."  
  
He sighed again. "I know I needed to hear that. Notice how I haven't fucked anyone since she talked to me? That's not the problem. The problem is that she called me a faggot. I don't care how mad she got—I can't be friends with someone who calls me a faggot. It's not what she said, it's how she said it."  
  
Queenie stood in silence for a minute. "God, you've matured a lot in the past few months." She paused. "But, seriously, she said it in the heat of the moment and you know that she cares about you. Maybe she did go a little over the top, but I think it would be in your best interest to make up with her."  
  
"We'll see," Angel responded quickly, as he picked up the pile of clothes again and stuffed them into the dresser.  
  


* * *

  
A beautiful sunset graced the skies of the East Village sky, just beginning to hide behind the tall buildings. With a pickle tub in front of him, and another beneath him that he sat on, Angel sat and played, the sounds of the tub echoing down the quiet street. It was unusually quiet for an October evening, but Angel didn't mind. He loved the silence when he was drumming—it made him feel as though there was nobody else in the world besides him and his echoing drum beats. He shut his eyes and continued to play, his mind drifting off to another world entirely.  
  
It was a young girl's soft crying that brought him back to the corner of 11th street and Avenue B. He stopped playing and looked over to see a familiar mane of unruly curls—it was Mimi.  
  
"Oh great," he thought to himself, "The last person I want to talk to." Putting his hands back on the tub, he almost began to play again, but her crying continued. He gritted his teeth and sighed in frustration. "Why do I always feel obligated to be so damn nice?" he mumbled as he got up, stacked the tubs inside each other and walked over to her, pulling his favorite white faux-fur jacket against his body.  
  
"Mimi?" he asked as she lifted her head, her eyes bright red from crying, her hair a frazzled mess.  
  
"Oh my God. Angel...what are you doing here?" she asked softly, wiping her eyes and brushing her hair out of her face.  
  
"I drum over here a lot but I heard you crying. Are you okay?" he asked, then paused, "That's a dumb question. Why would you be crying if you were fine. Tell me what's wrong."  
  
She smiled weakly at him, tucking a lock of wild brown hair behind her ear. "Benny's married. I just met his wife."  
  
Angel's face fell, his mouth dropping open. "Are you fucking kidding me? He's been married this whole time?" He was stunned.  
  
"Yup. She wanted to take him out for their one year anniversary today. He told her that I just came by to give him the rent. He introduced us, like I meant absolutely nothing to him, that evil, manipulative, little --."  
  
"Hey, calm down," he said, putting his arm around her shoulders and placing the tubs down on the sidewalk. "He's scum. You can do so much better than that. Just forget about him."  
  
"He told me he loved me. He told me that I was the perfect girl for him and that he only wanted to be with me," she explained, her voice shaky.  
  
"Men are scum, Mimi, that's why I don't do relationships," Angel told her.  
  
"I know, but I really thought this one was different. Who am I kidding? They're all the same."  
  
"Listen, you're a great girl and any guy would be lucky to date you. You're just having a bad streak of luck, that's all. The right guy will come along soon, I promise."  
  
She smiled again, this time her face lit up a bit. "You're the best friend ever. God, Angel, I've missed talking to you so much. I'm so sorry about everything that happened."  
  
"It's alright. I needed to hear what you said and, even though it made me mad for a while, I'm glad you talked to me. I haven't fucked anyone since our fight, I hope you know."  
  
Mimi laughed. "God, this must be the longest you've ever gone. Are you going through withdrawal, or something?"  
  
"Something like that," he giggled.  
  
"I'm so sorry, though. Our friendship means way too much to me to fight over something so dumb. I don't even remember what we were arguing about in the first place."  
  
"Me neither."  
  
"So we're okay again?" she asked, her voice sounding hopeful and almost pleading.  
  
"Yeah we're okay. It's free drink night at Metropolis. You buy one drink, you get the next one free! You wanna check it out with me?"  
  
Her eyes lit up, any sadness that had been there before vanishing. "I'd love to." She grabbed his hand and led him down the street.  
  


* * *

  
A/N: ONE MORE CHAPTER TO GO!!!!!! Sorry for this one taking so long and being shorter than the others. I'm just really excited for the next one. Christmas Eve... It should be up within a few days. Read and review as always. 


	47. Chapter 46: December TwentyFourth

A/N: Let me just say that this chapter is something that I never thought I'd get to. At the end of this one will be a big old list of thank-you's. That is all. Proceed  
  


* * *

  
Chapter 46: December Twenty-Fourth.  
  
"You could always go with this robin's egg, also. This one looks fabulous on hazel eyes. Most people tend to think that blue eye shadow doesn't work on anyone with green eyes, but I promise this one will—Queenie!" Angel squealed, interrupting his intensive eye shadow search with one of his regular customers, Misty Schultz, a young ad-exec in her mid 30's with the most beautiful eyes Angel had ever seen.  
  
"Merry Christmas, baby!" Queenie greeted as Angel ran out from behind the counter and wrapped his arms around her, hugging her tightly. "How's the makeup business today?"  
  
"It's great! I helped this one customer who...oh my god, Misty, I'm sorry!"  
  
Laughing, she shook her head. "It's fine. Maybe she can help us with my dilemma!"  
  
"Oh my god! Makeup shopping! I haven't gone hardcore makeup shopping in so long. This will be fun!" Queenie squealed as she stood next to Misty and Angel resumed his position behind the counter. "So what are we dealing with here?"  
  
"Eye shadow crisis," Angel explained, his voice now taking on a very serious tone. "Misty has a Christmas function tonight with her colleagues and she has a lot of people to impress. She explained her outfit. It's got a kind of black, blue, silver color scheme going on. She's found the right lipstick—a subtle, pale pink, but now she needs the right eye shadow to match it."  
  
"Wow, this is a tough one. Let me get a look at your eyes, sugar," Queenie said, staring deeply into Misty's hazel eyes, looking deep in thought. "I think a light blue or a silver would work well," she concluded.  
  
"That's what I was thinking, but we've got 5 different 'light blues' and 3 different 'silvers' to choose from, hence our dilemma," Angel said.  
  
"Well, have we narrowed it down at all?" Queenie asked, looking at the eight black compacts in front of her.  
  
"I think it's between robin's egg, clear sky, and stardust," Angel decided, looking at Misty for approval.  
  
"Yeah, I think those three are my favorites," she agreed.  
  
"Well, this 'clear sky' looks like it's a bit too bright. You want something that's a very subtle blue—almost silver, but just blue enough so it'll pick up the blue in your dress and the bluish tones in your eyes," Queenie suggested.  
  
"God, you're almost better at this than me!" Angel exclaimed, as he picked out the compact of robin's egg shadow. "So you wanna go with this one?"  
  
"I think so. My dress has this one bold blue stripe on it and I think it'll help bring that out," Misty pointed out, examining the small compact.  
  
"Definitely. I think this is the way to go," Queenie agreed.  
  
"Thanks so much, both of you. Angel's my usual consultant," Misty explained to Queenie, "He's absolutely amazing with this stuff. Nobody knows makeup better than Angel."  
  
"I taught him everything he knows," Queenie said, beaming with pride.  
  
"Oh I'd believe that," Misty said, laughing. "You both are very impressive together. Thank you so much. Ang, I'll be sure to let you know how the party goes."  
  
"Yeah, I can't wait to hear about! Merry Christmas, Misty! Take care!" Angel said, as Misty paid for her eye shadow and lipstick and left the store.  
  
"Ang, you are good. I'm very impressed. I've never seen my little makeup artist at work," Queenie giggled.  
  
"Well, I only learn from the best." He smiled at her and gave her another hug. "Not that I mind you being here or anything, but why did you come?"  
  
"I heard that tonight is drag night at Metropolis," Queenie explained, as Angel's eyes lit up at the mention of it. "I am going to help you find a perfect outfit, but I figured that we should pick out the perfect makeup first."  
  
"Oh my God!" Angel yelped, hugging her again. "I have the perfect outfit, but it's missing something," he explained, "It's that Santa coat that Mimi bought me last Christmas. I've even got the perfect outfit to wear under it—you know that flower skirt, the leotard with the yellow and orange sleeves, and that green tank top with the fuzzy collar? Will bought it for me for my birthday a few years back. I've even got that flower headband I made when I was, like, sixteen that matches the skirt perfectly! But I want different tights. I've never really liked the green ones I've worn with it, and I thought that maybe something crazy like zebra tights would look good, especially with that jacket."  
  
"Sounds like you've got it all planned!" Queenie exclaimed.  
  
"Yeah, I've been planning this Christmas outfit for a long time. I already know what makeup I want too! I found three different eye shadows I like—purple haze, royal steel, and stardust. I found my lipstick too! We just got this great new red lip-stain in and I found a red lipstick that comes in a pack with this clear glitter stuff."  
  
"Wow...if I had known you had it all planned, I wouldn't have come by so early," Queenie said, laughing at how perfectly Angel had planned everything out.  
  
"Well we close in about 2 minutes, so after I close up we can go on a wild hunt for zebra tights. Nobody is better at finding obscure clothes then you."  
  
"I guess I do have a knack for finding things that are different," Queenie admitted, "Okay. Let's close up shop and then we'll go shopping."  
  
"I'm almost frightened," Angel giggled as he gathered up the makeup that he had set aside for himself, stuffed it in his gold purse, and locked the door behind Queenie and himself.  
  
"Oh, baby, you should be."  
  


* * *

  
"Queenie," Angel whined, trailing behind her, "we've been shopping for three hours! It's almost five o'clock already!"  
  
"Yes, it's almost five o'clock on Christmas Eve, you don't have your tights yet, and we're running out of time!"  
  
"We've been wandering all over creation! The only place we haven't gone yet is Dancing Queen."  
  
Queenie stopped dead in her tracks, her dark almond eyes lighting up. "That is precisely where we will go next!"  
  
They walked another three blocks, until Angel thought he was going collapse. Luckily, they arrived at Dancing Queen before he decided he could go no further.  
  
"Tiff!" Queenie called into the empty store. It had been quite some time since Queenie had brought Angel here, since most of the clothes that the store carried, Angel had, or had no interest in buying. "It's a fashion emergency!"  
  
Popping her head, topped with a blue wig out from behind a rack of clothes, Tiff got up immediately when she saw who it was that needed her help. "Hey strangers. Haven't seen the two of you around here in a while. How have you been holding up?"  
  
"Alright," they both answered in unison.  
  
"We really need your expertise," Queenie pleaded, "See, Angel and I have been scouring the entire city looking for a pair of zebra tights. It's drag night at Metropolis and Angel needs the perfect outfit. He's got most of it, but the missing piece is the tights."  
  
"This could make or break the outfit," Angel said, his voice full of urgency.  
  
"You are in luck, baby," Tiff said, to the relief of both Angel and Queenie, "We have one pair of tights left. They've been sitting in the back forever and I was just about to ship them back. They're this insanely small size. Most queens can't even fit into them, but they're perfect for you, Ang."  
  
Jumping up and down in excitement, Angel hugged Tiff. "You have no idea how happy this makes me! My outfit for the night is complete!" He squealed in excitement as Tiff went to the back room to retrieve the tights. She emerged with the package in hand. Queenie started to fish through her purse for money, but Angel stopped her.  
  
"No, I'm paying for this. You spent three hours shopping with me and that's enough," Angel insisted.  
  
"No, I'm paying for it," Tiff said. "Think of it as a Christmas present."  
  
Smiles spread on both of their faces as Tiff dropped the tights in a small, pink bag that sported the Dancing Queen logo and handed it to Angel. "Merry Christmas, girls. Enjoy!"  
  
"Oh, we will!" Queenie called as she ushered Angel out of the store.  
  
Once they were outside, stars were beginning to litter the sky, which had been dark for at least an hour. Clutching the bag to his chest, Angel breathed a sigh of relief, knowing that his outfit for tonight was set. He was beyond excited for drag night at Metropolis—he knew that he would be among the most fashionable queens there. This was truly his chance to shine. "Thanks so much for taking me shopping," he said to Queenie, who was standing beside him and leaning against the brick outside of Dancing Queen.  
  
"It's no problem!" she exclaimed, putting her arm affectionately around his shoulders. "Wear it well. Tonight's gonna be fun, I can feel it."  
  
"Me too. I feel bad that I'm skipping out on the Life Support meeting, though. Paul really wanted me there. I guess every Christmas they do a big commemoration of people they've loved and lost to AIDS, or something. If it wasn't drag night, I'd totally go."  
  
"Well, it sounds like it'll be kind of depressing. There's nothing wrong with just wanting to have a good time on Christmas Eve."  
  
Angel sighed and nodded, glancing down at his watch and noticing that it was only 5:15 PM. "I think I'm gonna go home and get changed. Maybe I'll do some drumming, or something, before I get ready to go out tonight."  
  
"Alright, sounds good," Queenie said, kissing him on the cheek. "Merry Christmas, baby. Have fun."  
  
"I will. You too. I love you, Queenie."  
  
"I love you too, Angel."  
  
They hugged one last time and then parted ways.  
  


* * *

  
He had almost reached his usual drumming destination. It was especially cold tonight, even for a late December evening. Angel had a knit had covering his head to keep him warm. He usually hated hats and preferred wigs, but he wasn't in the mood to wear a wig just yet. He was saving that for tonight. As the minutes passed, he got more and more excited about going to Metropolis. He made a pact with himself not to have anymore promiscuous sex, but he was hoping to at least have a heavy make out session before calling it a night. The wind blew down the street causing him to zip up his red, quilted jacket even more. Underneath, he only wore a thin, long-sleeve spandex shirt with a glitter screen print of the earth on it. It was always one of favorite shirts, and one that he'd had for quite some time. He bought it while he was with Lenny, which was about six years ago. On his legs, he had his all-time favorite pair of jeans—a pair that Tiff had custom-made for him with iridescent square- shaped sequins covering the denim. His scuffed-up sketchers sneakers kicked a rock in front of him, as he spotted the place where he usually liked to drum. Mimi's building was just a few feet away, but it was around the corner. He used to play right in front of her building, but the solitude of his new area made it easier for him to get lost in his music.  
  
Having just gotten situated on his tub, he put the other one between his knees and began to play; slowly at first, getting faster and harder as time went on. After only about two minutes of playing, a woman stood in front of him. Most people who stood and watched him didn't stand nearly this close, and they always threw a dollar or two into the coffee can he had sitting next to him. She stood about six inches away from his tub and refused to move. Abruptly, Angel stopped playing and looked up at her. She resembled most of the upper crust of New York society—a mink fur coat, expensive leather pumps, a perfect blonde bob haircut, classic pearl earrings and necklace to match. These were exactly the kind of people who kept Angel in the East Village—he wanted to escape them, not run into them on a regular basis.  
  
"Can I help you?" he asked, after watching the woman examine him for a few minutes.  
  
"I think you can. Pardon my staring, but I needed your help with something. Allow me to introduce myself: I'm Bethany Kingsley and I live right in that building over there." She pointed to the nicest building on the block—a well-kept brick edifice. "My neighbor has the most obnoxious, ridiculous dog that will not stop barking. I haven't slept well in what seems like years, that thing is up all night barking."  
  
"Not to be rude, ma'am, but how the hell does this involve me?" Angel asked, getting impatient with the woman.  
  
"I'm getting to that. I want you to play those mock-drums of yours on my windowsill. I'm thinking that'll make that thing bark so loud it'll tire itself out, do you catch my drift?"  
  
"So you want me to drum until the dog shuts up?" he asked, raising a skeptical eyebrow at her.  
  
"Basically, yes. I'll pay you a thousand dollars—oh and I'll pay you another 200 if you trim the Christmas tree for me."  
  
"Sorry, but I have plans tonight. I can't trim the tree, but I'll play my drums. A thousand dollars is a hell of a lot more than I'd be making on the street."  
  
"Wonderful. Thank you, dear. Now, follow me up to my place and we'll get started."  
  
This was something he thought he'd never do—follow an older, rich woman up to her apartment. Shrugging his shoulders, he picked up the dented coffee can, stacked his tubs inside each other and followed her around the corner and across the streets.  
  


* * *

  
The apartment was absolutely stunning and was among the most expensively furnished that Angel had ever seen. Holly, ivy, and mistletoe adorned the doorways and the countertops and a large, barren pine tree sat in the corner of a huge living room. Angel gawked at the place: it was huge.  
  
"Right this way," Bethany Kingsley led him to the window sill she wanted him to sit in. From this window, he could clearly see the apartment building he was supposed to be playing at—the building directly across the street from Mimi's. "See that window right there, with the blue drapes?" she asked, pointing to the biggest window on the side of the building Angel was facing. The building seemed so close together that Angel felt like he could reach out and touch the window she was pointing to. He'd probably want to reach out and touch it, if he wasn't on the top floor (the 21st floor) of the building.  
  
In the window, he saw a small, harmless-looking Akita dog staring at him. He smiled at the dog, which proceeded to yap at him. The bark was loud, high-pitched and glass shattering. Suddenly, Angel understood why this woman was so eager to shut the pup up.  
  
"Now play," she instructed, standing behind him as he held the tub under his arm, banging on it with his free hand. Sure enough, the dog barker louder and faster now. As Angel's beats got faster, the dog barker louder and he kept up with the pace. What Angel didn't realize at first was that the window was open. He kept drumming faster and faster as the dog began to lean out the window. Concerned, Angel quickly stopped drumming and looked over at Bethany, who looked pleased with his work.  
  
"Ma'am, uh, the dog is, uh --."  
  
"Keep playing," she insisted, cutting him off. Shrugging his shoulders, Angel went back to playing. After only about five more minutes of playing, the dog started to lean out the window again, only farther this time. Making one last obnoxious yap, the dog fell head-first into the narrow empty space below. It whined as it fell, but once it made contact with the ground, there was silence—complete and total silence.  
  
"Well, at least it won't bark anymore," Bethany remarked, as she shoved the one-thousand dollars into Angel's hand (all in 50 dollar bills) and rushed him out the door.  
  
Once he had gotten outside the building, he thought to himself about what just happened. "Fuck," he said out loud, as he peered around the building and saw the dog, or what was left of it, lying in a lifeless heap. "FUCK!" he said even louder, when he realized that he was the murderer of the poor, innocent dog. "I've gotta get out of here," he mumbled as he crossed the street, trying to get his mind off what just happened. He looked down at his watch, which now read 8:45 PM, noticing that he had been in that woman's apartment for over an hour. He shuddered at the thought of what he had just done. Never in his life did he think he'd be a killer.  
  
He was so preoccupied by thinking about what happened that he almost ran straight into the person coming at him. "Sorry," he apologized. Looking at the person, he realized that it was Mimi and his eyes lit up.  
  
"What's up?" she asked, giving him a hug and a kiss on the cheek.  
  
"You don't wanna know. What are you doing out at this time? I thought you weren't working," Angel asked.  
  
"Oh, I just went out for some fresh air. Are you drumming?"  
  
"Yeah, I was just about to," he said, fiddling with the tub in his hand.  
  
"Sweet. What are you up to tonight?"  
  
"Drag night at Metropolis!" he squealed, suddenly filled with a renewed sense of excitement.  
  
"Nice! What are you wearing?" she asked.  
  
"That fabulous Santa coat you bought me and this outfit that Will bought me for my birthday a few years back. You wanna come with me?" he asked, hoping that he'd have her as a companion tonight.  
  
"Yeah, I'd love to! You wanna meet me at my place around 10:30 and we'll go then?"  
  
"Sounds good!" he exclaimed. "I gotta get some drumming in before I need to leave and get ready. I'll see you later, honey. And don't worry about paying tonight—I got it covered."  
  
She looked at him, slightly puzzled, but agreed. "Okay. See you later, chica."  
  
Angel watched her walk back to her building, noticing that she looked even thinner and paler than normal. He figured it was just the winter—everyone looking pale in the winter. Rounding the corner, Angel resumed his favorite drumming spot. Setting one tub between his knees and planting himself on top of the other one, he began to drum feverishly, trying to stop thinking about that poor dog.  
  
He was just starting to get in a groove when he heard a strange sound—it sounded like a bat. Confused, Angel stopped banging on his tub for a minute and listened. Silence. "Must be the wind," he said softly to himself, as he pulled the knit cap farther down on his head, and continued to play.  
  
Out of nowhere, a man with long, wild dreadlocks ran around the corner, collapsing against the outside wall of the building right next to him. Groaning in pain, he keeled over, sitting on the cold concrete. Concerned, Angel stopped playing and looked at the man. "He must be freezing," he thought, noticing that the man wasn't wearing a coat, only a button-up denim shirt and jeans with a big rip in the knee.  
  
"Hey," he called out. The man looked up through his curtain of dreadlocks and Angel recognized him right away. It was Sexy Dreadlocks Guy from Mimi's building. He hadn't seen him around in a while.  
  
Angel's breath caught in his throat. "Breathe," his mind told him, "Stay calm."  
  
Getting up off his pickle tub, he cautiously walked slowly towards him. "Are you okay honey?"  
  


* * *

  
A/N: Dum dum DUM!!!!!! Enter Collins (Sexy Dreadlocks). I honestly cannot believe that I got this far. Seriously, I thought I'd give up after maybe 20 chapters, even though I had the whole thing planned. And here I am, on chapter 46 with RENT starting. I've got big plans for Angel (or Little Angel, as I so affectionately call him) and Collins (AKA Pothead!Collins) together, so stay tuned, folks. At this time, I'm going to do some thank yous. I'm a dork and I feel like this is a big deal, so I'll stop to thank everyone who's helped me along the way. Thanks, first of all, to Jonathan Larson for coming up with Angel and RENT and for inspiring me to write. To RENT itself for being so amazing =) and to Jai Rodriguez, my first Angel, who will always be Angel to me. Nobody will ever take his place. Thanks to Mark Richard Ford, for inspiring Collins. Thanks to my teachers who have read this monster and who've encouraged me to continue it. Thank you to Rachel, my best friend in the world, who helped me through this. We've had some crazy inspiration sessions and a lot of good laughs. AWOTWU! SAL! Thanks to Risa, who ALWAYS makes me laugh and who first inspired me to continue this when I was ready to give up. And to everyone else who reviewed, thank you times a million. Your positive encouragement and all the praise that you've given me is something I appreciate more than you know. Thanks for reading and I hope you've enjoyed it thus far. Stay tuned while I embark on Part 2 of T4U... RENT. 


	48. Chapter 47: Never Felt This Way Before

Chapter 47: Never felt this way before.  
  
Through a curtain of perfectly maintained dreadlocks, the man looked up at Angel, deep brown eyes connecting with his own.  
  
"Are you all right?" Angel asked again, as he got up and stuffed the tubs, one stacked inside the other, under his arm.  
  
Clearing his throat, the man answered him, refusing to break eye contact. "Yeah, I'll be fine." Despite his attempts to sound okay and brush off the pain, Angel could hear it in voice.  
  
"You don't look okay. Did you get mugged?" he asked. "Deep breaths, Angel," he told himself, "He's just a guy. A sexy, beautiful, gorgeous guy that you have all to yourself right now, but, still, he's just a guy."  
  
"Yeah. Some gay-bashing asshole. You know the type," he mumbled back, managing a bitter and pained smile.  
  
"More than you know. Did they get any money?"  
  
"They would have, if I had any for them to get." He managed a slight laugh. "Got my coat, though," he said, pulling the remainder (half a sleeve) off his battered arm. "You missed a sleeve, jackass!" he yelled out to the empty night, throwing the piece of clothing onto the ground.  
  
Gingerly, Angel approached him and picked it up. As he got closer, the man got even more beautiful. *Get a grip, Angel. Stop trying to pick him up—he just got mugged!* "I'm Angel," he said, placing his tubs down on the ground only inches in front of the man. He smelled the faint scent of smoke—marijuana or cigarettes, he wasn't sure.  
  
*God, it's hot out here...what am I saying, it's fucking December and I'm not even wearing a coat.* "Angel...indeed," the man answered, smiling at Angel. He wiped a bit of sweat off his brow and held out his other hand. "Collins. Well, actually, it's Tom Collins, but my friends call me Collins." Angel gripped his hand and he immediately tensed. *Wow, he's gorgeous.* Collins swallowed hard, wondering why the hell he was so nervous around this beautiful stranger. *I've never been nervous around a man before—not once.*  
  
Angel felt sparks fly between his hand and the dark, chocolate brown hand that held it. *Chill out!* As if on cue, the Christmas tree in front of Bethany Kingsley's building suddenly illuminated the dim street with its lights.  
  
"N-nice tree," Collins remarked, his deep eyes sparkling under the lights. *Why the fuck am I stuttering? Since when do I stutter? Angel smiled and nodded. He has the most beautiful eyes I have ever seen.* Collins tried to move, but a deep, sharp pain in his leg stopped him. For a second, Angel had made him forget that he had just gotten badly mugged.  
  
His eyes softening, Angel stood up from his tubs and looked Collins square in the eye. Collins was shorter than he had expected—only a few inches taller than he. *If I was to kiss him, all I'd have to do is tilt my head up a little and—stop it! He's not interested in me, anyway. He's probably got like 5,000 different boyfriends lined up, if he's even gay!* "You know, my place is only about a block from here. We'll get you cleaned up and get a Band-Aid for that nasty cut on your knee," Angel said, pointing to the giant gash, coated with deep, crimson blood.  
  
"I-I'm not sure, I mean, I've got some friends who live in that building right over there," he pointed around the corner to Mimi's building. *But I'd rather walk 5,000 miles with you than go there.* "They're expecting me."  
  
"I used to live in that building and there's no elevator." *Oh great, way to sound disgustingly desperate, Angel. Bravo!* "Come on. I'll clean you up, we'll go get something to eat and then..." he paused, taking in a shaky breath. *Shit! I've said too much!*  
  
"And then what?" Collins asked, raising an eyebrow at him.  
  
"Why don't you come to a Life Support meeting with me?" Angel blurted out. *I know I'm supposed to go the club with Mimi, but I'm not asking this stranger to the club! That's just awkward! And I want him to meet Paul!* "I have AIDS," he said. *If he wasn't completely turned off by me being a fucking nervous wreck, the AIDS definitely did me in. That's it, it's over. I'm gonna go bury myself in a hole and never come out.*  
  
Collins looked away from him, feeling his cheeks burn. *I am NOT blushing. No, no I'm not blushing. Thomas B. Collins doesn't blush.* "So do I."  
  
Angel's eyes lit up the dark street even more than the tree had. *So...so maybe he's not so turned off. Is he blushing?!* "We'll get along fine, then!" Angel squealed, grabbing onto Collins's arm. Immediately, the second they touched, he felt the sparks again. "Why don't we make a night out of it, then?" *I can't believe I just said that. Who says, "Make a night"? I totally just sounded like some old straight guy from the 50's.*  
  
"You know, I'd," he paused again, the breath getting caught in his throat. *Stop stalling! Just talk! I've never had any problems talking before.* "I'd really like to, but, as I told you. I have some friends waiting for me." His cheeks burned again, bringing over him a new wave of embarrassment. *STOP BLUSHING!!!*  
  
Angel smiled, noticing the slight pink on his dark cheeks. "You're cute when you blush." He practically hit himself in the head for being so obvious. *I SUCK at flirting. I used to be good, but I guess I lost my touch. Two years without a boyfriend will do that to you.*  
  
Collins smiled back, shyly. *Since when am I shy? And since when is someone like him interested in someone like me?*  
  
"Come on," Angel encouraged again, still holding onto his arm, trying to pull him closer to the apartment. *He must think I'm one pathetic guy. Why the hell would he want to come back with me anyway?* Abruptly, he let go and looked in Collins's eyes again. *God, I can't believe how beautiful those eyes are. He's so... so much better looking that anyone I've ever seen before.*  
  
Collins stood there for a minute, staring at Angel, dumbfounded. *I can't believe he actually wants me to come back with him. Oh...my...god.*  
  
"Are you coming?" Angel asked, unable to mask the shaky insecurity in his voice. This was the first time in all his years of being an out and proud homosexual that he'd EVER been this nervous around a guy.  
  
A few seconds later, the two were walking together, side-by-side back to the apartment.  
  
*--*--*--*--*--*--*--*--*--*--*--*--*--*--*--*--*--*--*--*--*--*--*--*--*-- *--*--*  
  
The walk was as awkward and silent as the two had expected. Luckily, Angel's apartment was only 2 blocks from where he had found Collins. Collins stood there, his hands stuffed into the pockets of his tattered jeans.  
  
Gripping his tubs even tighter, Angel kept his eyes focused on the sidewalk beneath his feet. A car drove by the two men, breaking the uneasy silence on the cold street.  
  
Angel scratched his leg, coughing as he did so. Collins looked over at him, waiting for him to speak, but saying nothing.  
  
"Here we are!" Angel said, feeling oddly relieved. The two got in the elevator as it took them up to the 6th floor.  
  
The dark, cramped area was even more uncomfortable than the walk to the building. Standing in opposite corners, both Angel and Collins kept their arms crossed and deliberately tried to not stare at each other. Collins closely examined the buttons of the elevator, right in front of his eyes. "This is a...nice elevator," he remarked.  
  
"Yeah," Angel replied, smiling at their pathetic attempt to make conversation.  
  
"Do, uh, do you know when it was built?" Collins asked, yanking on a dreadlock hanging in his face.  
  
"I don't know, it was actually here when I moved in," Angel stated, matter-of-factly. *I can't believe we're sitting here talking about the elevator. We're pathetic. Well, I am, at least.*  
  
The rest of the ride was silent.  
  
Hearing it ding as the doors open, Angel stepped out and Collins followed behind him. The hallway that led to the 3 apartments on each floor was dingy and dark, almost resembling a prison cell. Once Angel put the key into the door and opened up to his place, the prison vibe was gone, immediately replaced with a warm, welcoming light and a small, cozy apartment decorated with everything bright and fuzzy that Angel could find.  
  
"You have a nice place," Collins remarked as he followed the drag queen inside. Taking a seat on the blue fuzzy couch (the one that Angel had slept on all those years at the club), he looked around, observing everything. A dresser littered with pictures sat in the corner next to the door. He wanted to get up and see who was in all the pictures, but he didn't want to invade Angel's privacy. It was nice enough to be invited up; he didn't need to snoop around.  
  
"I can't believe we've barely spoken to each other," Angel said softly, as he took off his red, quilted coat to reveal a skin-tight, black and white spandex shirt with a screen print of the earth on the front.  
  
"Damn, he's skinny," Collins thought to himself as he stared at Angel's body, mesmerized by the way the spandex made the muscles on his stomach stand out. "Yeah, I don't think that walk could have been anymore awkward if we had tried."  
  
Laughing, Angel agreed. "So let's break the ice." *Woohoo! Burst of confidence! Way to go, Angel!* "Tell me about yourself, Collins."  
  
Angel sat on the floor, rolling up Collins's pant leg to reveal the deep, nasty cut. Gingerly, he wrapped gauze behind the knee and back over it a few times to make sure it would stay and the blood wouldn't soak through.  
  
Hearing the boy say his name gave Collins chills. *Nobody has ever made me feel so special just by saying my name.* "My name is Thomas B. Collins and I was born February 29th, 1968." His leg was starting to tingle from Angel touching it. No man's touch has ever felt like this.  
  
*Oh my god, he's so much older than me!* "So that must mean you'll be -."  
  
"Don't remind me. Thirty," he said, shuddering. Angel finished wrapping his leg. Standing up, he brushed himself off and fiddled with the cap on his head.  
  
"Well, you don't look thirty. You could pass for early 20's, easily."  
  
Collins smiled and blushed again. "Thanks..."  
  
"Thomas B. Collins," Angel repeated, "What does the B stand for?"  
  
"I could tell you," Collins stated, casually, "but then I'd have to kill you." He laughed nervously. "Seriously, though, the only people who know what the B stands for are my parents, and that's only because they cursed me with it."  
  
"It must be pretty bad then," Angel remarked, washing his hands and getting a protein bar out from the cupboard. "Want one?"  
  
"No thanks," Collins replied, gazing at Angel, longingly, as his back was turned. His eyes traveled down the slim form. *God, he is so beautiful.*  
  
Returning back to his original position right on front of Collins, Angel smiled at him. "They're really good, are you sure?"  
  
"Yeah, I'm not big on those vitamin-enhanced bar things. It just looks like a big block of mush, anyway. I mean, no offense if you're into mush-eating and stuff like that."  
  
Angel started laughing to the point where he almost choked on his bar.  
"Hey, be careful," Collins said, patting him on the back until his coughing subsided. "So tell me a little about you."  
  
Swallowing a large bite, Angel looked up into his eyes. "Angel Dumott-Schunard born June 22nd, 1975."  
  
"You're younger than I thought you were," he commented.  
  
Standing up, Angel took a last large bite of the protein bar and crossed his arms over his chest. "Are you saying I look...old?" he asked, with a mock-attitude.  
  
"Stuttering, Collins stood up and clasped his hands together, out of nerves. "I-I didn't mean you old, it's just that –-."  
  
Angel interrupted him by laying his hand gently on Collins's arm. "It's okay. I was kidding." They both stood in silence for a few minutes, staring at each other. A honking car horn broke their trance as Angel rapidly took his hand away, stuffing it in the pockets of his jeans. *If he didn't think I was desperate yet, he definitely does now.*  
  
"So, what's this Life Support meeting you invited me to?" Collins asked, relived that he was able to think of something to break the awkward silence.  
  
Obviously relieved as well, Angel sighed and smiled. "Oh, it's a group for people living with AIDS. There are a few people there who aren't positive, but they have family members or friends who are. It's just a group for people to be around others who understand what they're going through. When I first got diagnosed, the group saved my life. It just showed me that I wasn't alone, you know?" He cocked his head to the side as he talked rapidly.  
  
"It sounds great. I used to live around here and I heard of a couple of those groups. My old roommate has HIV too and I was trying to get him to go to one for months. He was a mess when he first got it. I actually haven't seen him since then; he's one of the guys that I was supposed to meet tonight."  
  
"Well, how about we go and meet them? Bring some food and stuff over," Angel suggested.  
  
"That sounds great, only... I don't have any money," Collins admitted, sheepishly.  
  
"It's alright. I got lucky tonight and some lady paid me a thousand dollars to shut this dog up. Bottom line is, now the dog's dead and I have a thousand bucks."  
  
"You killed a dog?" he asked, surprised, "I know I've only known you for about fifteen minutes, but you seem like the last person in the world to kill anything." *I feel like I've known you my entire life. Does that make sense?*  
  
"Yeah, I even surprised myself. But it was a total accident. I just hope that I never have to meet the dog's owner. I don't think I'd be able to live with myself." He got up and tossed the protein bar wrapper in the trash. "Well, I should get changed. Make yourself comfortable, and I'll try not to take too long."  
  
"Okay," Collins replied, leaning back on the couch as he watched Angel go into his bedroom and shut the door.  
  
*--*--*--*--*--*--*--*--*--*--*--*--*--*--*--*--*--*--*--*--*--*--*--*--*-- *--*--*  
  
Huddled in the corner of his bedroom, Angel grabbed his pink cordless phone and dialed Mimi's number immediately.  
  
"Hey, it's Mimi. Leave me a message and I'll call you later. Ciao!"  
  
The phone beeped loudly in his ear as he began to speak. "Oh my god, Chica, you will not believe who's here! Its sexy dreadlocks guy, do you remember him? Honey, I am FLIPPING OUT right now, I can't even begin to tell you! I'm not gonna be able to go to Metropolis with you tonight because I'm going out with him. I'm so so so so sorry, but I will tell you everything word for word tomorrow. Hope you can find someone else to join you. Ciao, baby."  
  
Hanging up the phone, Angel got out of the corner and lay back on his bed, closing his eyes and breathing a deep, euphoric sigh. *I cannot believe that the sexiest man alive is in the same house as me. He is in MY living room, sitting on MY couch, looking at MY stuff. OH MY GOD!!!*  
  
In an effort to contain himself, he took another deep breath and changed quickly into his pre-planned outfit that he so affectionately referred to as his "santa drag." The entire outfit was absolutely perfect and he felt like a princess in it. The fuzzy ends of the coat rubbed against his hands and warmed up his body. Under the coat, he felt the spandex sleeves on his arms that looked like a second skin, and the white leotard under the green tank top that was hugging his torso tightly. The fuzzy collar of the shirt in a green leopard print pattern kept his neck warm. The only bit of the outfit he was having trouble with was the tights; they were new and he wasn't used to the way they stretched. Struggling to pull them on, Angel hopped around his room, all the while getting more and more tangled in the stretchy fabric. *I must be the clumsiest drag queen around.* Right after that thought passed through his head, his feet got stuck so badly that he fell to the ground, making a large THUMP.  
  
*--*--*--*--*--*--*--*--*--*--*--*--*--*--*--*--*--*--*--*--*--*--*--*--*-- *--*--*  
  
Collins was up looking at pictures. He noticed a lot of photographs of Angel with an Asian lady--although, she did have awfully large arms for a girl. He was with a tall, handsome black guy in some of the pictures, too.  
There was a couple of Angel, obviously over the course of a few years, with a guy who, it appeared, had a love for khakis and button-down plaid shirts. The guy was hot, though—big muscles, deep blue eyes, sun- streaked blondish-brown hair. It looked like one of Collins's summer flings from a few years back.  
There was one picture, however, that stood out among the rest. It was obviously older than the rest, considering that Angel looked like he couldn't have been more than sixteen, and in black and white. Behind the smiling young Angel stood a tall, built man with an intimidating smile on his face. Just looking at the man in the picture made Collins afraid. Next to him was a woman, much shorter than he who looked identical to Angel. Obviously, she was his mother. No other person could resemble a young boy so exactly. If she wasn't wearing women's clothes, he could have sworn that she was Angel, a few years down the road. It was eerie how much the two resembled each other. Stepping back to the blue couch he had been sitting on, Collins wondered to himself why there was only that one picture of Angel and his mother. He wanted desperately to know everything about Angel, but he was afraid to ask. Hanging on the wall directly behind him was another picture of Angel with the Asian lady. This photograph, however, was blown to up to near life-size proportions. Angel was dressed in drag, which surprised Collins. He could tell after only seconds from meeting Angel that he was no macho queer, but the boy didn't strike him as a transvestite either. He stared into the happy amber/hazel eyes. *I can't believe that the hottest man alive is in the same house as me. I'm in HIS house, sitting on HIS couch, looking at HIS pictures. I can't get over the fact that I'm actually here. I am the luckiest son of a bitch in the world.*  
  
Loud crashing in the other room interrupted his thoughts. Curious, he called out in the direction of the bedroom. "Hey, are you okay in there?"  
  
A muffled laugh followed. "Yeah, I'm fine. Just being my usual, clumsy self. I'll be out in about 5 minutes."  
  
*--*--*--*--*--*--*--*--*--*--*--*--*--*--*--*--*--*--*--*--*--*--*--*--*-- *--*--*  
  
*He must think I'm so pathetic!* "Fuck," Angel whispered as he put his wig and headband on in record speed. He usually spent five minutes perfecting his hair alone... on a good day. Now, he had to spend five minutes on a routine that took him, on average, about 30. He whipped the compact out from his cosmetics box and smudged his foundation on, attempting to cover every slight imperfection. Stuffing his hands into the pockets of his coat, he came across the makeup he had purchased earlier in the day that he planned to wear with the outfit tonight. *No time to look good like tonight. I'm going to impress the shit out of him.*  
  
Carefully, he brushed the three different colors of glittery eye shadow onto his eyes, over the liquid eyeliner that was still drying. After dusting a coat of iridescent glitter on top of the shadow, he whipped out his red lipstick and glitter gloss, coating his lips in both as fast as he could without it looking messy. Checking his reflection one last time in the mirror, he got a good look at himself.  
  
"I look hot," he said out loud; quiet enough so that Collins couldn't hear him. He put his hand on the doorknob, ready to open it, but took it off only seconds later. *Who am I kidding? Does he really want to see a girly boy in a dress? I should have never invited him up. He probably thinks I'm this ridiculous, high-maintenance queen...that wouldn't be too far from the truth.*  
  
*Stop being a pussy and open the door!* His mind screamed at him, urging him to get some balls and walk out the door. *Just do this! It's not that hard.* He took another deep breath and shut his eyes as he opened the door. *Here goes...*  
  
*--*--*--*--*--*--*--*--*--*--*--*--*--*--*--*--*--*--*--*--*--*--*--*--*-- *--*--*  
  
His eyes were fixated on the door as it opened. I wonder what took him so long. They remained on the ground as a pair of 5-inch heels came into view. Slowly, like a camera panning across a beautiful landscape, his eyes traveled up Angel, observing the zebra tights that covered his thin, toned legs; to the red, fuzzy coat that look like a Santa suit, keeping his body warm; to the makeup on his face, sparkling; to the wig on his head, shiny and black with flowers placed along the crown. He had never, in all his 29 years, seen anyone look so ravishing.  
  
"Wow," was all he could get out. *Is this even possible? Isn't it a crime for a man to look this good?* "You look amazing."  
  
Angel blushed, fiddling with his wig. "You like it? My friend, Mimi, bought me the coat and I bought the belt today. Do you like the makeup? I work at Mac and I picked it up today at work, because I needed to find something that goes with my outfits, because, you know, makeup can –."  
  
"I love it all. You look great," Collins said, softly, cutting off Angel's ramblings.  
  
Awkwardly, the two stood in silence: Collins, with his hands folded tightly in front of him, and Angel, playing nervously with a stray strand of hair from his wig.  
  
"Well," Angel broke the silence, walking over to the coat rack to grab his gold bag, "Why don't we head out? I wanna pick up some food for your friends and stuff."  
  
"You really don't have to do that. I mean, granted they're starving artists and even a box of cereal at this point would be like gold to them, but I don't want you to go out of your way, or anything," Collins babbled, trying every excuse in the book so that he didn't have to leave Angel's apartment. *I could stay here with you, forever. That doesn't sound too bad.*  
  
"Well if they're starving artists, then we have to bring them something! I'm a starving musician and makeup artist myself, so I know what it's like." Angel giggled, his face suddenly turning much more innocent and insecure than he had been. "Maybe, you know, we can... uh... talk on the way and get to know each other," he proposed in a soft, quiet voice. *I can't even pretend to be confident with this guy. What the hell is wrong with me?!*  
  
"I'd really like that," Collins answered in his signature cool, suave way. *At least I can act like I don't want to spend every waking second with this man.*  
  
Angel left the apartment, followed by Collins, as he turned around. Once he had locked the door behind him, Angel turned around, only to trip over his huge heels and fall—right into Collins.  
  
"I'm sorry!" he squealed as he attempted to get up as quick as possible, "I'm not used to these shoes! I've only worn them twice before tonight. I'm-I'm really sorry."  
  
Helping him up, Collins smiled. "It's okay, don't worry about it. If you're really having trouble walking in those, you can hold on to me—you know, for support." *I'm such an idiot!*  
  
Angel tried his best to hide the excitement in his eyes, to no avail. "Sure," he answered, holding tightly onto Collins's arm, "Thanks."  
  
*--*--*--*--*--*--*--*--*--*--*--*--*--*--*--*--*--*--*--*--*--*--*--*--*-- *--*--*  
  
"Here we are!" Angel yelped as he and Collins had managed to walk the four blocks to the Food Emporium, with Angel gripping onto Collins's arm the entire way. *Touching another man had never been so special.*  
  
"Hey! I love this place!" Collins exclaimed, as he entered, with Angel trailing behind, "Back when I used to live on the corner of 11th and B, I used to come here with my room mates all the time. I mean that was when we were lucky enough to have the money to go food shopping. They were starving artists then, and they're still starving artists now, from what I hear. Didn't you say you used to live in that building?"  
  
"Yeah, I lived with a good friend of mine, Mimi Marquez. Do you know her?"  
  
"Can't say that I do, but there have been a lot of people in and out of that building during the four and a half years that I lived there. I'm surprised I don't remember you." *If I had known you then, I might not have left in the first place.*  
  
"Well, I remember you," Angel admitted, sheepishly, as he picked up a basket from the stack with his free arm.  
  
"You do?" Collins asked, shocked and confused. *How is it possible that a guy like this lived in the same building as me, and I never noticed?*  
  
"Yeah. I have a confession to make." His cheeks burned with embarrassment, as he was about to admit to Collins that he had been thinking about him ever since he first saw him the day he moved in with Mimi. "When I first moved in, my friend and I noticed you and we both thought you were... well, really cute." *I'm such a loser! He's totally going to be weirded out now! Stupid stupid Angel!!!*  
  
Collins felt his own face flush with compliment. *HE THOUGHT I WAS CUTE!!!!!!* "Well, I'm very flattered. And I'm sure that if I had seen you, I would have talked to you sooner."  
  
"You're not weirded out?" Angel asked, not wanting to look him in the eye.  
  
"Of course not. There's a lot of guys that I've seen here that I thought were cute. No shame in that."  
  
"That's a relief. I was so afraid to tell you!"  
  
"It's okay. You can tell me anything you want," Collins said, immediately regretting it. *I sound like a pathetically desperate middle- aged man. What the hell is wrong with me? Since when have I sucked this much at flirting?*  
  
They walked in silence for a few seconds before they came to the cereal aisle. "Didn't you say they liked cereal?" Angel asked, breaking the silence for millionth time that night.  
  
"Yeah, Mark's a Cap'n Crunch addict," Collins said, picking up a box with the Captain on the front. "I've always hated the stuff. Too sugary for my liking."  
  
"I though I was the only one who absolutely hated sugary cereal!" Angel exclaimed, tossing the box of Cap'n Crunch in the basket. "I'm really into eating healthy, so I have 9-grain cereal with fat-free milk."  
  
"Whole-grain Total?" Collins asked.  
  
"Yes!" Angel exclaimed, as the passed the display for the Total cereal.  
  
"That's my favorite!"  
  
"Me too!" Angel exclaimed, as they both smiled at each other. *I can't believe we just bonded over cereal. Who does that?!*  
  
"Well, now that we both know each other's breakfast diets; tell me something else about you that I don't know yet."  
  
They walked down the can foods aisle, and Angel immediately remembered the night that he tried to get Will to cook dinner for the both of them. *That was a disaster.* He shook his head, stifling a laugh, remembering Will's incapability of putting the canned carrots in the pot, instead of on the counter. "Let's see.... I've always lived in New York. I haven't seen my father since he kicked me out, my mom died when I was sixteen, and now my 'family' consists of an Asian immigrant drag queen and her partner."  
  
"So that's who the Asian person was in those pictures. I was convinced he was a she."  
  
"You know, a lot of people say that when they first meet her, but Queenie is as much of a man as any of us."  
  
"Queenie? Is that her real name?" It's ironic that a drag queen's name is Queenie.  
  
"No, it's some Chinese name that nobody ever uses. As far as I'm concerned, she's just Queenie." Angel picked up a bunch of bananas. "Should we get these too?"  
  
"Yeah, those guys could use some nutrition," Collins answered, laughing. "So why do you call Queenie 'she' if Queenie's a guy?"  
  
Angel stood still for a minute; he had never thought of that before. To him, Queenie had always been "she." "I don't know," he finally answered. "In every way except biology, Queenie's my mother. She took care of me when nobody else did, and she was there for me when nobody else was. I guess, as much as I think of her as a guy, I can't bring myself to call her 'he' because she's my mother."  
  
Next to Angel, Collins stood still as well. "That's really sweet," he remarked, as Angel took hold of his arm once again. Just like every time he had brushed up against him that entire night, Collins felt electric tingling shooting through his body. "So what about her partner? What's he like?"  
  
The two continued to walk as Angel explained his family life. "Freddy. He is a beautiful person, in both senses of the word. I found out right after I moved in with him and Queenie that he was HIV positive. I guess ever since I got diagnosed, he's been like this huge support for me. It was really hard at first, you know? Well, yeah, I guess you'd understand, too, but I didn't have anyone to talk to about it except Fred because he was the only one that knew what it was like. If it wasn't for him, I think I'd be a really different person."  
  
"I'd love to meet him sometime." *I'd love to be a part of your life. Let me in.*  
  
"I think you'd love them. They'd love you too." They stopped walking for a second and smiled at each other again. Awkward silence once again overcame them as they stood, gazing into each other's eyes. "So what about you, Mr. Collins? There's gotta be something interesting about you that I don't know."  
  
*The way he calls me Mr. Collins is SO sexy.* Angel took hold of his arm again as they continued to walk down the aisle, now heading over to the alcohol section. "I'm originally from San Francisco, California. I went to school at Stanford and then I went on a retreat with this group from my college. It was a bunch of radical anarchist type people so we went around the country to some of the major cities to protest the way of the government and today's society."  
  
"So you're an anarchist?" Angel asked. *Oh my god, liberals are so sexy.*  
  
"You could say that. I don't know, I just think that people are able to live on their own. They don't need some 'higher power' dictating their lives to them. I've always thought that people should live by their own credo. Maybe that's why I have been all these years."  
  
"That's really cool. I mean, I've never met anybody who's an anarchist before. Although this one time, I slept with a communist, but..." Angel cut himself off, realizing what he had just said. *Code of gay men everywhere, rule number one: NEVER TALK ABOUT PAST FUCKS! Damnit, I am so stupid.*  
  
"There are more of us than you'd think there'd be," Collins commented, managing once again to save Angel from near-fatal embarrassment. "But I haven't done one of those 'radical anarchist rebellions' in a few months, so I think I'm starting to tone down a bit." They walked in silence for a bit longer, until Angel noticed a display for Bustelo coffee.  
  
"You know, I've heard the best things about this stuff, but I've never tried it."  
  
"It's the number one Cuban coffee, you know. I had a lot of it when I went there a couple years back."  
  
"You've been to Cuba?" Angel asked, shocked. I can't believe how much this man travels. The sheer fact that he was from California and was now in New York already impressed him enough.  
  
"Yeah. It's not nearly as bad as people made it out to be. A friend of mine was convinced that communists and anarchists are the same, so I figured bringing him to a place like Cuba where they're still communists would show him otherwise. He never argued with me again."  
  
Angel laughed so loudly he thought he'd be thrown out of the supermarket for disturbing the peace. "Well it's nice to know that you're not a communist." He threw a box of Bustelo into the shopping basket. Continuing to walk once again, Angel turned the corner to the area of the store where they kept the fruit, tripping on himself and nearly knocking over the display of oranges and grapes.  
  
"Whoa there," Collins laughed as he helped Angel up, grabbing his hand for support. As soon as their skin touched, both men couldn't deny the feeling it had sparked in them. Slowly, their eyes met as Angel began to stand up from the floor, never looking away from Collins. Keeping hold of his hand, Collins met Angel's hazel eyes head-on. They were exactly at eye-level with each other. "So, how about we get them some bananas?" Collins asked, maintaining a tight grip on the drag queen's hand.  
  
"That sounds great," Angel answered, as the two continued to walk, never breaking the touch. "So tell me more about California. What's it like growing up somewhere warm?"  
  
"Lots of hot, shirtless men," Collins pointed out. *None as hot as you. I'd give up all my past sex partners for a glimpse of you with your shirt off.* "And no such thing as a white Christmas. My parents were hard- core hippies and had a severe dislike for any weather that required them to wear more than a peasant top and paper-thin jeans."  
  
They were approaching the register now, both sad knowing that their trip to the supermarket was ending. Collins tucked a stray dreadlock behind his ear and fiddled with the black frame glasses on his face. Angel looked over at him, admiring his uniquely beautiful appearance. *I have never thought that glasses were sexy. Ever. Until now.* "Your parents sound really cool."  
  
"Yeah, they are. I haven't seen them in almost six years by now, but they were great when I was living with them. I think that's where I got a lot of my liberal thinking from. If my parents were straight-laced republicans, I don't know where I'd be."  
  
"Yeah, try a straight-laced Polish immigrant," Angel mumbled under his breath as they both began to unload their meager groceries.  
  
"What?"  
  
"Nothing, just... my father. Well, I don't even think of him as my father. I'm just a product of his sperm. He was a real uptight guy. Really controlling, abusive, manipulative, alcoholic type like the kind you see in the movies. Any stereotype of a drunk and dominant male is probably what my father was like."  
  
"Sounds like you were glad to get out of there," Collins remarked as they finished unloading the groceries onto the counter and looking behind the cashier at the boxes of cigarettes. "Do you mind if we get a box of Marlboros?"  
  
"Oh... you smoke?" Angel asked. *I knew there had to be a catch! I can't live with someone who is going to make my clothes smell like cigarettes and make my house like a giant fog machine. Wait, who said I was going to live with him anyway?!*  
  
"My roommate, Mark, has this horrible addiction to cigarettes. The only thing is, he'll only have Marlboro. When I used to live with him, he'd get these horrible cravings and Roger would offer him a cigarette, but he couldn't stand to smoke it unless it was Marlboro. So every time I'd see a display of Marlboros, I'd buy a box and send them to Mark when I was away. He called me last week and told me he was so grateful I did that, but now he's all out and it's my fault, since I kept supplying him. So I figure it'll be a nice gift for him."  
  
"He sounds like an interesting guy," Angel remarked, not wanting to insult Collins's friends before he met them.  
  
"Oh, trust me," Collins replied, gripping Angel's hand even tighter than before, "he is. They all are. I'm really excited for you to meet them." They walked together, hand in hand, to the checkout counter. A small, young kid with acne covering his face stood behind the register, looking at the couple in an appalling, hateful manner.  
  
"Did you find everything?" he asked.  
  
"Oh yes. I mean, what can't you find at the Food Emporium?" Angel asked, smiling politely at him.  
  
"Paper or plastic?" the kid asked, glaring at them.  
  
"Plastic is good. I can use them as trash bags later," Angel commented to Collins.  
  
"Cash or credit?"  
  
"Cash. I got lucky tonight!" Angel squealed, using his free hand to whip a $50.00 bill out of his pocket.  
  
"Angel, are you sure you don't mind paying for all of this?" Collins asked again, for what had to be at least the fifth time that night. "I really don't want to inconvenience you anymore than I already have."  
  
"It's okay," Angel reassured him, letting go of Collins's hand, only to put his arm around his shoulder, "It's not an inconvenience. As long as we have a good time tonight, you can consider it an even trade." Angel's eyes sparkled with a happiness and love that had long-since died. *I'm sure we'll have a good time tonight. I don't think it's possible to be anything but happy when you're around.*  
  
"$30.75 is your total," the acne-covered kid announced, breaking Angel and Collins's loving stare.  
  
"Here you go, honey," Angel said, handing him the fifty.  
  
The kid rang in their purchases, scowling as he did so. Without saying another word, he handed Angel the change and avoided any possible touch.  
  
"Have a nice night!" Collins said to him.  
  
As they were leaving, they heard the kid mumble, "Fucking queers," under his breath.  
  
"Fucking straight people," Collins whispered in Angel's ear, eliciting a burst of giggles from the drag queen.  
  
*--*--*--*--*--*--*--*--*--*--*--*--*--*--*--*--*--*--*--*--*--*--*--*--*-- *--*--*  
  
After a few more blocks of walking, talking, and laughing, Angel and Collins arrived at the loft. Being back in Mimi's building sent a wave of memories through Angel's mind. He could almost see himself and his nightly trick walking up the stairs and making out right in front of the apartment. *None of those memories can even compare to what I feel tonight.*  
  
Collins turned to Angel as he stood in front of the door. "I have to warn you again," he said, nervously, "my friends are a bit... interesting. They're real nice guys if you get to know them, but don't expect too much." He let his hand drop from around Angel's waist and clasped his hands together—a nervous gesture that had developed over the years. *I swear to God, if Mark or Roger says ANYTHING about how Angel has to be "the millionth trick I've brought home", or about how I've never had a boyfriend or been in a remotely serious relationship, I won't be responsible for my actions. They will NOT embarrass me like that, god damn it!*  
  
Playing with the trim along the bottom of his coat, Angel sighed, anxiously. *Oh my god, what if his friends hate me? What if they're really homophobic... well, they can't be that homophobic if they're friends with Collins, but what if they don't like me because I'm a queen? What if I'm too flamboyant for them? What if they don't know how to dress? I will not be responsible for my actions if I'm around people who are fashionably retarded.* "If they're your friends, they can't be that bad."  
  
"I bet they'll love you, though." He practically smacked himself in the forehead. *I sound so pathetic. It's okay, Angel, you can run away from me. I'll understand.* He knocked three times on the door and they both heard footsteps coming from behind it. "Here goes..."  
  
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A/N: Sorry it's taken me FOREVER to write this chapter. Lack of inspiration (severe writer's block) has plagued me over the past couple of months. Hopefully, I'll get the next chapter up soon, but given the fact that I STILL have unbelievable writer's block, that might not happen for a while. Stay tuned though. I have NOT given up on this story. I have lots of fun things planned for Collins and Angel =) 


	49. Chapter 48: Meet the Bohemians

Chapter 48: Meet the Bohemians.  
  
The door to the loft opened and a blonde man with glasses similar to Collins's stood in front of them. He held a large, ancient black video camera in his free hand. Angel looked at the outfit he was wearing, trying his best to not show an expression of dislike. A thick, plaid coat covered what looked to be a small, thin body. Baggy jeans hung off his legs, covering his shoes and wrinkling at the bottom. His hair a bit of a mess; but, Angel noticed, he had nice, natural red highlights. "Definitely straight," Angel thought to himself.  
  
"Mark, this is Angel Dumott-Schunard," Collins said, with a say- anything-to-him-and-I'll-beat-the-crap-out-of-you tone to his voice. "Angel, this is Mark Cohen."  
  
"Hi," Mark said, cheerfully. He extended his hand to Angel. "Nice to meet you."  
  
Smiling at him, Angel tried his best to give a nice, firm "man" handshake, but only managed to give a gentle squeeze. Past Mark, Angel noticed another man who looked even worse off than Mark did. Tight plaid pants hugged his too-skinny legs and a baggy green sweater draped over his body. His dirty blonde hair was a knotted nest of waves sticking out in every direction. DEFINITELY straight. He turned around to face the others, piercing green eyes staring them down.  
  
"Angel, this is Roger," Collins introduced, pointing to the man still sitting on the table. Roger merely grunted in reply. "Roger, this is Angel, a new friend of mine."  
  
Bravely, Angel walked over to him, extending his hand for a shake. Roger's expression was a bit unreadable; Angel couldn't tell whether he was happy, sad, angry, amused, or all of the above. After refusing to touch Angel, Roger got up off the table and passed him by, barely even acknowledging the drag queen in front of him. "Isn't this, like, the fifth guy named Angel that you've brought home and called 'your special friend'? " Roger questioned, a sarcastic snap to his deep voice.  
  
"No," Collins mumbled angrily under his breath.  
  
"They're all the same. Jim, Ted, Brian, George, Greg, Bobby, Mike, Andrew, Max, Jer-" Roger rattled off various names, Collins's expression growing more and more intense with each word.  
  
"So, what brings you back to the good old East Village, Collins?" Mark interjected, breaking Roger's irritating list of all the men Collins had slept with over the past few years.  
  
"Teaching job at NYU," Collins stated proudly, "After my little mishap at MIT, the philosophy department at NYU was more than willing to add me to their faculty. They claimed that I would be suitable for controlling all the radicals around here, or something like that."  
  
"You?" Mark laughed, "Of all people, I think you'd be the one to contribute to the chaos, if anything."  
  
"What did you do?" Angel interrupted, a curious expression on his face.  
  
Collins took hold of his hand again. "We'll discuss it later," he mumbled, obviously not wanting to bring it up.  
  
"So, Angel," Mark said, raising an eyebrow in Collins's direction, only to see his face turn a bright shade of crimson, "what brings you to our humble home?"  
  
"A bunch of starving artists with nothing to eat," Angel replied, handing Mark the shopping bag.  
  
Shuffling through it, Mark immediately found the economy-sized box of cigarettes. "Oh sweet! Marlboros!" he exclaimed as he took a cigarette out, dug through the deep pockets of his coat to find a lighter, and took a drag of the cigarette, his eyes closing as he inhaled the sweet smoke. "Want one, Rog?"  
  
"No thanks," Roger grumbled, turning even farther away from the group in front of him.  
  
Leaning over to Collins, his lips grazing his ear, Angel asked, "What's up with him?" in a low, soft whisper.  
  
"I'll explain later, but remember my friend who I said was positive?" Angel nodded. "That's him."  
  
Everything fell into place as Angel answered an all-knowing, "Oh."  
  
"So, besides my cigarette addiction and the fact that we're so hungry we can barely see straight, what brings you here?" Mark asked Angel, still savoring the taste of his cigarette.  
  
"I've lived here almost my whole life, actually. Well, for the past 6 years, at least. Before that I lived uptown."  
  
"Yeah, what building?" Mark asked, curiously.  
  
"I actually lived here with my friend, Mimi, for a while. Do you know her?" At the mention of Mimi's name, Roger turned sharply around to face the group, nearly knocking his guitar off the table in the process.  
  
"Fuck," he muttered under his breath, still sitting and facing the group.  
  
Looking at him quizzically, Angel cocked his head a bit to the right. "Do you know her, Roger?"  
  
"We just met," he answered vaguely, turning his back to Angel once again and trying to pluck out a song on his painfully out-of-tune guitar.  
  
Putting out his cigarette, Mark picked up his camera, turned it on and began to film. "Close on Roger," he said softly, attempting to keep himself from being heard by his roommate, "who just got the life back in his eyes for the first time since April. I have a feeling that love is coming his way, and –-."  
  
"Mark, shut that fucking thing off!" Roger barked, throwing the scratched up guitar pick at him.  
  
Turning away from Roger, Mark turned the camera on himself, "Maybe this Mimi will help to control his temper."  
  
"We can only hope," Collins muttered under his breath, slipping an arm around Angel's waist.  
  
"So, what's the deal with the camera?" Angel asked, immediately feeling the warm tingling in his body as Collins touched him.  
  
"I've always been into film making and I decided just a few weeks ago that I was going to make a documentary. I figure I'll film whatever I see and, maybe if I'm lucky, it'll turn into a masterpiece. You never know."  
  
Angel giggled in response.  
  
"By the way, Angel," Mark interjected, stuffing his hand into the box of Cap'n Crunch, "thanks for the provisions."  
  
"Oh, it's no problem, really," Angel chirped, his arm around Collins's neck, fiddling with one of his loose dreadlocks. "Today for you, tomorrow for me, that's what I always say. Anyway, I had quite a bit of cash to spare tonight." Using his spare arm, he reached into the pocket of his fuzzy red coat and pulled out the stack of $50 bills.  
  
Mark gawked openly at the sum of money. "I don't think I have seen that much cash in my entire life. How the hell did you pull that off?"  
  
"I'll make a long story really really short; I met some woman on the street who wanted me to drum in her house to shut this dog up. I shut the dog up and she paid me. I guess that's it."  
  
"Well, that's certainly the most interesting Christmas Eve story I've heard in quite some time," Mark said, laughing. "Well, it's a pleasure to have you here, Angel. It's really nice to meet you."  
  
Reaching into the cupboard, which was almost entirely empty with the exception of a few bottles of Stoli, Collins pulled one out and held it up high in the air. "Here's to having an... eventful Christmas eve."  
  
That elicited laughs, even a slight smile from Roger, still sulking on the table. "I'll drink to that," he mumbled.  
  
Clearing his throat and still gripping tightly onto Angel's waist, Collins continued to hold the bottle in mid-air as he began to sing, "Joy to the world..."  
  
"The Lord is come," a voice answered from the entrance of the door. While Angel was fighting off the incredible urge to jump Collins right on the spot, a familiar figure entered the loft. Angel knew right away who it was; that earring was very distinguishing. Benny.  
  
Roger's face twisted into an even angrier sneer, if that was possible, as he glared in Benny's direction, his fiery green eyes burning holes in his head. "Nice to see ya, Rog," Benny remarked casually as he tried to shake Roger's hand, only to be greeted by his middle finger. "Yeah, Merry Christmas to you, too."  
  
Mark picked up the camera and began to film again. "Close on Benjamin Coffin the 3rd, Benny, our ex room mate. Long story short, he bought this building and the lot next door from his new father in law, once he married Allison Gray. His plans of starting a 'cyber studio' with Roger and I fell through once he abandoned us and demanded the rent. Some may wonder where his heart has gone, but I think it's gone right to his --."  
  
"How goes it, Mark?" Benny interrupted, fixing his collar in front of the camera, "Heard about Maureen."  
  
"Thanks for the sympathy, Benny. I'm always pleased to know I'm in your thoughts," Mark answered sarcastically, still filming the scene.  
  
"Collins, my man. Long time no see," Benny greeted, holding his hand out for a shake. Abruptly, Collins snapped his arm down, avoiding any contact with Benny what so ever. He guided Angel over to the chair, previously occupied by Mark and sat him down. A protective arm remained on his shoulder at all times. Breathing a sigh of relief, Angel crossed his legs, letting his feet rest for the first time since he'd put on those dreadfully high heels.  
  
He tuned out Benny's drabble about rents, cyber studios, and Range Rovers to take in the scene. Only a few short hours ago, he had been sitting on the side of the street, drumming, and trying to think of ways to score a hot trick at Metropolis. Now, here he was in his old building, meeting new people with a new potential lover. Angel looked up at Collins, who was arguing over some inane business with Benny, and smiled in a way he never had before. For the first time in his entire life, he felt the empty space in his heart beginning to fill. Even when he was with Will, he had never felt like this. No man had ever had the capacity to make Angel feel the way Collins did, even in the short, short amount of time they had known each other. Hoping and praying to a God that he barely even believed existed, he shut his eyes briefly, "God, I know it's been a while since I've asked you for something. In fact, the last time was probably when my mother died. But I'm asking you now, God, please let this man... this Collins... become a part of my life. This feeling can't go away and even though I've only known him about two hours, I know that I'll never love anybody the way that I love him right now. God, I--."  
  
Angel's deep prayer was interrupted by the lifting of his skirt, a sudden draft blowing up his legs. Letting out a very girly, very high-pitched shriek, he looked up to see who had violated him. The silver earring gave it away instantly. He was preparing to slap Benny when Collins stepped in front of him, creating a barrier between them. "Don't touch him," his deep voice boomed. He hadn't even spoken that loudly, but the intensity in his voice was enough to scare of anybody, even someone as cocky and self- absorbed as Benny.  
  
"Whoa there buddy, did I hit a soft spot?" Benny asked, seemingly unfazed by Collins's verbal slap.  
  
"Don't. Touch. Him," Collins stated again, helping Angel up and keeping an arm protectively around him. The two walked over to another chair that was more in the corner of the loft and Collins sat him down, making sure that Benny wouldn't be able to get to him again. "You alright?"  
  
Angel beamed up at him, his eyes glowing with euphoric happiness. "I-I'm fine."  
  
"Good. Sorry about Benny, he can be a real ass sometimes. Just ignore him. He'll be out of here soon enough anyway. Stupid bastard only comes here when he wants something." Collins now had both arms wrapped around Angel's neck, preventing him from moving.  
  
*That's okay with me. I never want to leave your arms again*. "Speaking of what he wants... what, exactly, does he want?" Angel asked, feeling stupid for not being able to follow Benny's proposal.  
  
"That's simple, sweet thing," Benny said, then twirled around to face Angel, his puffy blue jacket billowing out as he did so. He placed a hand gently on Angel's leg, causing the drag queen to flinch involuntarily.  
  
"Hands off," Collins said, softly but firmly.  
  
"Touchy," Benny mumbled, as he stood in front of Angel, his arms now crossed over his chest. "All you have to do," he continued, "is get Maureen to cancel her protest. She's dumb as rocks, she'll listen to whatever you have to say."  
  
Angel could see Mark getting more annoyed by the minute. "She's not dumb as rocks and I'm not getting her to cancel her protest. What she's protesting is legitimate, and what you're proposing is fucking ludicrous! I'm not paying you an entire year's rent when you told Roger and I that we could live here for free."  
  
"I told you, man," Benny said coolly, zipping up his coat as he headed towards the door, "Get her to cancel the protest, and I'll let you stay here for free. Think about it." He winked at them, and then exited.  
  
"I think he could use some Prozac," Angel mumbled, causing Collins to throw back his head and laugh out loud.  
  
"You got that right." His arms dropped from Angel's neck as the drag queen stood up, taking one of his hands and holding it tightly. Walking over to join a very angry Mark, and an even angrier Roger, Collins and Angel sat down on the table next to them.  
  
"Hey, do any of you guys have the time?" Angel asked.  
  
"Yeah, it's about a quarter after 9, why do you ask?" Mark said, looking at his watch. The band was so worn and beat up Angel was worried the watch would fall off and break. Well, we'll just have to get him a new band. This great new line came in at Dancing Queen a couple of weeks ago. Maybe he'd like the tiger print.  
  
"Oh, well Collins and I have somewhere to go." *God, how I love saying 'Collins and I.'*  
  
"Oh yeah, the reminds me. You guys are welcome to join us, if you want."  
  
"I'd love to... wait, where are you headed?"  
  
"Life Support. It's just a group for people coping with... well, life. A good friend of mine runs it. As he always says, the more the merrier!" Angel chirped cheerfully as he clutched onto Collins hand. He felt like he was really starting to form a connection with Mark. Roger, on the other hand, was a whole different story. The man was like a brick wall: unresponsive and hard to break.  
  
"I'd really like to, guys, but I've gotta go help Maureen out. She called me in frantic hysterics looking for someone to help Joanne fix the equipment for tonight. I'll stop by if I finish early, though."  
  
"I hate to be nosy," Angel began *That's a lie*, "but who's Maureen and Joanne?"  
  
Letting out a frustrated sigh, Mark pushed his glasses further up on his face and fiddled with the worn scarf draped around his neck. "Maureen is my ex and Joanne is her man."  
  
Angel giggled, but stopped abruptly once he saw how angry Mark was. "I'm really sorry I mentioned it, I don't know you guys, I should have never --."  
  
"No. Oh God, Angel, no it's not your fault. It's just a touchy subject, that's all," Mark explained, patting him awkwardly on the shoulder.  
  
"What about you, Roger?" Angel asked, "How would you like to come with us to Life Support?" He kept his hand laced with Collins's as he walked over to cautiously approach the musician.  
  
"I'm not into the whole 'Let's hug each other and pretend that everything's okay' bullshit. Plus, I don't make very good company. I have a tendency to make mean, rude remarks," his eyes got a hint of amusement in them, "I wonder where people get that idea from."  
  
Mark rolled his eyes. "Roger, behave. Besides, you need to get out anyway."  
  
"I don't need to get out. I'm fine!" he snapped, once again retreating into his dark, angry shell.  
  
"That's okay, he can catch up with us later, if he wants." Angel smiled and ruffled Roger's a bit, much to his annoyance. "We better get going."  
  
"Nice meeting you, Angel. You'll both be at the protest, right?" Mark asked, as if he were pleading with them to come.  
  
"Sure, we'll be there," Collins answered, leading Angel to the exit, "I wanna see what Maureen's up to these days anyway."  
  
The couple began to exit as Mark pulled out his video camera. Filming Angel and Collins candidly, he began another soft narrative that nobody but himself could hear. "Close on Collins. This is his first night back in New York and the first day of the rest of his life. Close on Angel, the one who will change everything."  
  
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A/N: GUESS WHO WROTE ANOTHER CHAPTER!!!!! This one actually came a lot easier than I thought it would. Hope you enjoy it. I'll Cover You is coming up very VERY soon. Good things are in the works. Review, please =) 


	50. Chapter 49: A Typical New York Christmas

Chapter 49: A Typical New York Christmas.  
  
Shutting the loft door behind Angel, Collins looked at him with sympathetic eyes. "I'm so sorry about them. They can be a little... tough to handle sometimes." Although he should have been fuming at the way Benny treated Angel, he was, more than anything, grateful to be out of the loft.  
  
"Hey, it's okay. Just wait until you meet my friends. Try being around a bunch of catty, middle-aged drag queens. Honey, you don't know 'tough to handle' until you've met my crew." Angel giggled as his hand slipped comfortably into Collins's. The entire night had been this way—holding hands with each other to the point where nothing else felt natural.  
  
"I can't wait," Collins said to him in a low, husky voice. The comment sent shivers down Angel's spine. The man had to do so little to drive Angel crazy. His eyes looked on at the tender face with longing.  
  
"Well, we're headed to Life Support now. I really can't wait for you to meet Paul. He's a great guy. He was really supportive of me when I first got diagnosed." This was the first time since he had received the news that he was HIV positive that Angel had completely forgotten about the disease until the mention of Life Support. He had always felt like he was The HIV positive guy—like there was nobody else in this world who understood his condition. Sure, Mimi and Fred were positive too, but he just never felt like he could be completely normal around anyone when he had something they didn't: something that would eventually kill him.  
  
"If you don't mind me asking," Collins asked as they proceeded down the stairs to the front exit of the building, "when did you get diagnosed?"  
  
"It was a couple of years ago. It was one of those one-time things, you know?" Angel answered, not wanted to taint the evening with a terrifying tale of rape and betrayal.  
  
"Like a one night stand?" Collins asked, his voice hinting as if he'd had more of his share of those.  
  
"Not really. It's kind of a bloody story. I mean, I have no problem telling you, I just don't wanna ruin the conversation."  
  
"Nothing you say would ever ruin our conversation," Collins said, blushing seconds later when he realized he had abandoned his code of "No romance" and said something so sappy.  
  
Angel smiled wide, putting complete trust and faith in the man. "My ex was a junkie. I mean, for the majority of the time that we dated, he was clean, but a lot of things happened at the end of the relationship. So anyway, moral of the story is that we broke up, and then I saw him a few months later and he was in a fight with his dealer because I guess he owed the guy some money. Being the nosy little brat that I am, I had to know what was going on, and I refused to leave until he told me. Big mistake. This dealer guy said that if Will didn't pay up, then he'd use me as his payment instead. I didn't really understand what he meant until he unzipped his... and, well, I think you can figure the rest out." He spoke rapidly, barely pausing to take a breath. It was always hard to talk about the rape with people, but it was a lot easier with Collins. The man had interminable patience and seemed to understand every word that he was saying, devouring it as if he were hungry for every detail in Angel's life.  
  
"I can't believe something like that would happen to you. This ex boyfriend—Will, did you say his name was? —He sounds like a real ass hole," Collins commented, feeling anger rise from the pit of his stomach. The thought of anyone hurting the beautiful creature next to him made him so enraged he could hardly breathe.  
  
"Will? Oh my god, no. He's like my best friend, really."  
  
Collins did a double take, stopping in his tracks and turning to Angel. "Your best friend?" he questioned, assuming he had heard wrong.  
  
"Yeah. I mean, I never thought I'd be able to speak to him after our breakup, but he saved me from the dealer after I got raped and he was supportive when I tested positive. He even went to go get tested with me. I just ran into him a few months ago for the first time in a while and we started talking again. I see him almost every day. He's a good friend of the family, too, even though they didn't always like him."  
  
Amazed, Collins shook his head. "I just don't know if I could ever forgive someone that easily. After the way he treated you, I don't know how you could even stand to be in the same room with him."  
  
"Forgiveness isn't always easy, but it's the best choice, as far as I'm concerned," Angel said, softly.  
  
His words were so simple, yet they held so much meaning. Collins had never thought like that before. "You're right."  
  
Proceeding in silence for the next few minutes, lost in thought, they crossed a couple of streets lit by dim lamps. Breaking the eerie quiet, Angel turned to Collins. "So what about you? I bet you've got some crazy ex-boyfriend stories," Angel prodded, eager to hear about his former lovers.  
  
Collins felt a slight flush come over his face. "There actually aren't any."  
  
Once again, the pair stopped walking. Angel stared at him in disbelief. "You mean to tell me you're still a virgin?"  
  
Collins let out a small chuckle. "A virgin in terms of love, yes. But in terms of sex? I lost that when I was fourteen."  
  
Chewing on his bottom lip nervously, Angel stared deep into the dark eyes. Had he really never been in a relationship before? It certainly sounded as if he'd had enough sex to last a lifetime. "That's kind of young. How many guys were there?"  
  
The slight flush that Collins felt moments ago turned into a full onset of embarrassment as he looked at Angel, sheepishly. "I don't remember. I lost count." His voice was small and quiet as if this was an incredibly difficult thing to admit.  
  
Sensing the tension, Angel gave his hand a gentle squeeze. "It's okay. I've had my fair share too. But I can't believe you've never been in a relationship before."  
  
"I don't know, when I started having sex with all those guys, it felt nice. I liked being able to do it and go and not have to worry about hurting anyone. I guess I just got so used to feeling empty and doing one, or sometimes two-night stands that I thought that's all I'd ever get, so I didn't even look into the possibility of a relationship. I don't think I've ever really been on a real date before, now that I think about it." He had never admitted any of that to another human being in his life.  
  
There was a slight air of tension that Angel didn't know how to make go away. Luckily, he didn't have to. "We're here!" he exclaimed, tugging on Collins's hand and leading him into the building as he knocked on Paul's door.  
  
*--*--*--*--*--*--*--*--*--*--*--*--*--*--*--*--*--*--*--*--*--*--*  
  
"Hey Angel! Long time no see! I didn't know you were coming tonight!" Paul exclaimed, letting Angel in and watching cautiously as Collins trailed behind.  
  
Dropping Collins's hand for a quick second, Angel gave Paul a warm hug and then resumed his grip on the dark strong hand next to him. "Paul, this is Tom Collins. Collins, this is Paul, the leader of Life Support a really good friend of mine."  
  
"Nice to meet you," Paul greeted, showing a brilliant smile and shaking his free hand.  
  
"You too," Collins said, trying his best to act suave and confident.  
  
"You're just in time. Take a seat both of you, we're about to begin." The couple sat down, next to a beautiful blonde girl and a short, Puerto Rican guy. "Alright gang, we have a new member tonight. So let's start off by introducing ourselves, shall we?"  
  
The Puerto Rican kid next to Collins raised his hand first. "Hey, I'm Steve. I'm positive and I've been coming to Life Support for about three years, but I've had HIV since I was ten."  
  
A large, bony hand went up next, as the man next to Steve looked up from his lap for the first time since they'd begun their meeting. "Gordon," he mumbled, and immediately went back to fiddling with something on the floor.  
  
"Ali," an adorable blonde girl piped in immediately after Gordon. "I'm here supporting my old friend, Pam."  
  
"Hi, I'm Pam," a large black woman said right after Ali, looking at the blonde and smiling. "I'm positive as is my husband. He won't come to these meetings with me, so I drag Ali along."  
  
The Asian girl next to Pam smiled shyly as she introduced herself. "Lisa," she said quietly. "I'm like Steve; I got HIV from a transfusion a while back."  
  
The circle had looped around to Angel who was still holding on tightly to Collins's hand. "Hi, I'm Angel. I've been positive for a few years now and I've been coming to Life Support since I got diagnosed."  
  
Finally, it was Collins's turn. Contrary to his usual suave, cool, calm demeanor, he was a sweating, shaking, nervous wreck. His eyes darted across the circle, looking at each member of the group with trepidation. "Collins. Tom Collins," he managed to get out, "I've had HIV for 7 years."  
  
"Nice of you to join us, Collins," Paul interjected, graciously taking the spotlight off the anxious teacher. "I'm Paul, the leader of Life Support. Most of you have probably heard my speech at least ten times, but why don't you humor me and listen to it one more time. I started the Life Support group when my life partner, Nick, died from AIDS complications. He lived a full, happy life and never regretted a day of his life, even up until his last minutes on earth. His dying wish was for others to realize what he did: that if you busy yourself with regrets, you never have time to truly enjoy what you had. This is a support group for all people—negative and positive—coping with the struggles of the effects of HIV in their lives." He paused for a moment, watching everyone look at him intently. They still looked fascinated with his speech, even after hearing it countless times. "So, why don't we begin our affirmation?"  
  
As if on cue, the front door of his apartment burst open as a stumbling blonde in a plaid coat and striped scarf almost fell into the room. "Oh, uh, sorry," he mumbled, picking up the old camera he had dropped on his fall in.  
  
"That's alright. Welcome to Life Support. I'm Paul," he stuck out his hand, watching the filmmaker push his glasses up his nose and shake hands cautiously. "And you are..."  
  
"Oh, Jesus, sorry. How rude of me. I'm here with them, I mean, I'm a friend of his," he pointed to Collins, "but I don't mean to..." His ramblings were getting out of control. Taking a deep breath, he decided to start over. "Mark Cohen."  
  
Stifling giggles, Paul led Mark over to where Angel and Collins were sitting. Willingly, Steve gave up his seat to the filmmaker, helping to ease the awkwardness of his entrance. "It's nice to meet you, Mark, and thank you for joining us. Have a seat and join us. You're just in time."  
  
Collins looked over at Mark with a very amused expression on his face. Mark's neurosis and quirky behavior never failed to keep him entertained.  
  
"So," Paul continued, now that Mark was comfortably seated, "before I begin my weekly drabble, is there anything of utmost importance that any of you choose to discuss?"  
  
Gordon's hand shot up in the air again. "Yeah, I'm having a bit of a problem with this 'no regrets' bullshit we keep talking about."  
  
Despite his attempt to hide frustration under a brilliant smile, Paul still looked visibly peeved. "It's not bullshit, Gordon, but please go on."  
  
"My T-cell count is low. Are you telling me that I should be grateful for this news? I regret," he put a sickeningly sweet accent on the word, "that, alright?"  
  
In his usual understand fashion, Paul nodded. "Understandable. But, tell me something, Gordon," he continued as he usually did when Gordon pulled a stunt like this, "how are you feeling?"  
  
"Pissed off and horny," he muttered.  
  
A few awkward laughs escaped the mouths of some of the members, but Paul kept a stoic expression and continued. "I mean, health-wise, how are you feeling?"  
  
"Come to think of it, I haven't felt this healthy in a long time," he admitted, reluctantly.  
  
"Then why spend your time dwelling on the fact that your T-cell count is low? I know it's not easy to hear news like that. Hell, it's never easy to know that your health is declining. But what you need to be grateful for is that, yes, while maybe your count is low right now, you feel good. That's what important and that's what all of you need to realize."  
  
"Look, I get the whole 'live in the moment, life is only what you make of it' garbage, but it's not as easy as you make it sound. I've been positive for a long time, and, according to all those wonderful medical statistics that I keep reading about, I was supposed to be dead three years ago. How do you think something like that makes me feel, knowing that I'm living on this borrowed time?"  
  
Sympathetically, he looked at Gordon, trying to process what the man had just told him. "It's completely understandable why you're so upset. It's never easy to hear something like that, especially when you're dealing with these medical facts that the doctors like to shove in our faces. I'd tell you to ignore them and pretend like they don't exist, but the fact is that they do exist, and they always will. What's more important than any medicine or any diagnosis is the way you handle this news. As long as you're taking your AZT and making sure that you stay as healthy as you possibly can, you shouldn't dwell on any of the medical things."  
  
The group smiled at his inspirational words and Collins looked over at Angel, who was completely mesmerized by Paul's speech. Every time he blinked his eyes, the glitter would sparkle and shimmer. He had never been attracted to the effeminate type before; most of the men that he liked were similar to himself: strong, tall, and, most of all, masculine. Angel contradicted all of those. The kid was short, tiny, and about as feminine as he could get without taking hormones. There was something about him, however, that was different than every other man. Somehow, the fact that Angel wore dresses, wigs, and makeup didn't turn him off, rather, it had the opposite effect. However turned on he was, though, he didn't just want to fuck him on the spot. He wanted to more than just have sex with Angel; he wanted to make love to him. He wanted to lie in bed and cuddle with him, hold him, and protect him. For a second, his face fell in disbelief. *I want a relationship with him. Wait a second... relationship? Me? Do... do I actually LOVE him?!*. Love had never been a word familiar to him, but tonight, on December 24th, 1997, Thomas B. Collins was officially introduced to it.  
  
Mesmerized for the rest of the meeting, the encouraging words of Paul simply went in one ear and out the other. Before he knew what was happening, everyone was standing up around him and getting ready to leave.  
  
"Thanks for such a great meeting, gang. Have a great, healthy, happy Christmas Eve and I'll see all of you on the 26th. Go spend time with your families and the people you love." Paul concluded the meeting, standing at the door, arms open to hug each attendee as they left.  
  
"Thanks for letting me sit in, Paul," Mark said, prepared to shake his hand. Instead, the man pulled the filmmaker into a tight, friendly hug.  
  
"It's not a problem, Mark. You're welcome here anytime you like. Every night we meet at 9:30. I'd love to see you again sometime."  
  
Collins trailed behind Mark, prepared to wait outside for Angel. He figured the drag queen would want to talk to his friends, none of whom Collins had met before tonight.  
  
"It was great that you joined us this evening, Tom," Paul said, interrupting Collins in his direct path to the door, "I think it meant a lot to Angel that you came with him."  
  
Slightly confused, Collins smiled back. "I'm glad I came. This is a great group you run here."  
  
"Thanks for the compliment. Feel free to join us again sometime. I'm sure Angel would be more than willing to accompany you, seeing as how he's here at least once a week."  
  
"Will do. Thanks again," Collins replied, hugging him and waiting for Angel just outside the doorway.  
  
Abandoning his position just inside the doorframe, Paul walked casually over to Angel, who was talking to Gordon.  
  
"Believe me, honey, I know what you're going through. I've been there. You just gotta take it one day at a time, and everything will work itself out. Life has a funny way of doing that," the drag queen explained, holding one of Gordon's large hands in both of his own.  
  
"Just when I think everyone here is full of shit, I talk to someone who actually makes some sense," Gordon admitted to Angel, managing a small smile, the first that he'd seen since he met the troubled man.  
  
"Well, it's hard to listen to someone when you feel like they don't understand what you're going through. Hang in there, Gordon, it will get better. Feel free to give me a call if you need anything later."  
  
"Thanks, Ang. Have fun on your date with that guy," Gordon said slyly, catching Angel off guard.  
  
Blushing furiously, he broke eye contact with Gordon and started to chew his lip: a bad nervous habit of his. "Well, it's not really a...uh... date, it's just..."  
  
"I'll see you later," Gordon laughed, hugging him and leaving, nearly knocking Paul over in the process.  
  
"Will you be back tomorrow, Gordon?" Paul questioned, that comforting smile plastered on his face.  
  
"I think so," he answered, hugging Paul as he made his exit.  
  
"So... Angel," Paul began, watching as the drag queen began blushing furiously again, "how come you didn't tell me you had a boyfriend?"  
  
Gasping, Angel laughed awkwardly. "He's not my boyfriend!" he yelped, trying desperately to cover up the fact that, more than anything, he would love to have Collins as his boyfriend. Hell, he'd give up his left arm just for a kiss from the guy. "He's just a guy that I met on the street. He got mugged and I felt bad so I brought him back to my place, and --."  
  
"And the fact that he is completely hot wasn't a factor, I assume?" Paul asked, taking great pleasure in making Angel blush uncontrollably.  
  
"Shh!" he giggled nervously, "He'll hear you!"  
  
"So what if he does? He obviously thinks you're adorable too!" Paul exclaimed, grabbing onto Angel's hand excitedly. "So... have you done it yet?"  
  
Confused, he cocked his head. "Done what?"  
  
Paul's face fell in disbelief. "Oh, come on, Angel; you of all people should know what I'm talking about! Have you had sex with him yet?"  
  
Angel yelped. "NO! I can barely talk to the guy without sounding like a stuttering idiot."  
  
"Something tells me that you didn't need to have an intellectual discussion with all those other guys you've slept with." He had a point.  
  
"That's true, but this one's different. And besides," Angel snapped back, getting that "diva" look on his face, as he often did when he was about to make a snappy comeback, "I thought you didn't like me sleeping around."  
  
"Touché," Paul answered, impressed. "But you said this one's different. Go after him. Show him that he's different."  
  
"You know what?" Angel answered, embracing Paul, "I think I will."  
  
"Merry Christmas, Angel," Paul said, softly, as Angel left the room to go join up with Collins once again.  
  
*--*--*--*--*--*--*--*--*--*--*--*--*--*--*--*--*--*--*--*--*--*--*  
  
Just outside the Life Support room, Collins stood next to Mark, watching Angel hold Gordon's hand, talking to him about something that obviously looked very important. "That was a really neat group," Mark commented, watching Collins stare longingly at the drag queen.  
  
"Huh? Oh yeah. Yeah, it was," Collins replied, attempting to focus his attention on Mark, but having a difficult time when Angel was in plain sight.  
  
"What is with you?" Mark asked, grabbing his friend by the arm and turning him so that he had his entire, undivided attention. "You're usually so easy going and laid back. What the hell happened to you at MIT? Did they give you some kind of serum that made you a nervous, bumbling mess?"  
  
Collins laughed nervously. "Really, everything's fine. Couldn't be better." He wasn't lying.  
  
"Well then what the hell is up with you? It's like one second you're—oh my God, it's Angel, isn't it?" Mark practically smacked himself in the head for being so stupid as to not realize the painfully obvious. "Oooh! Collins is in love!" Mark mocked.  
  
"Shut up!" Collins said quickly, hitting him on the arm.  
  
"I can't believe I didn't see it. You've never been like this with a guy before. I don't think I've ever even seen you spend this much time with one guy. Does he know?"  
  
"I don't know," Collins answered quietly, yanking on a long dreadlock.  
  
"I think he likes you too. I mean, he's been holding your hand all night and when he looks at you he has this huge smile on the face. Granted I don't know the guy or anything, and I'm never any good at this relationship stuff—look at me and Maureen, for God's sake—but it's very obvious that he cares about you."  
  
"I'm not getting my hopes up," he said softly, still fiddling with the hair wrapped around his finger.  
  
"What do you mean? You've never had hope before, anyway. You've never wanted or looked for a relationship with any of the other guys. Where's this sudden hope coming from?"  
  
"He's different," Collins answered, simply.  
  
"How is he different, besides the fact that he's the first boy you've brought home that wears wigs, dresses and lipstick?"  
  
"Because he's the one that I can't have."  
  
"What do you mean you can't have him? Uh, you already do. He's here with you, isn't he?"  
  
"No, it's not that. It's... never mind, I guess I can't explain it."  
  
"Try harder," Mark demanded, looking at Collins, expecting a full confession.  
  
Sighing, he looked at the filmmaker, his eyes filled with a vulnerable fear. He wasn't an overly emotional person, but he'd never had a problem expression how he felt before. Now, just the thought of telling Mark that he might possibly love Angel made him shake. "With every other guy, it's like they're always the ones that go after me. I never have to work. With him, I do, because he's like me; the guys come after him, too, and I'm probably no different."  
  
"Collins, if he looks at every guy who comes after him the way he looks at you, then it's a miracle that one hasn't stuck around. You're special to him, I can tell."  
  
"I don't know..."  
  
"Hey boys. Sorry that took so long," Angel chirped cheerfully, standing in front of Mark and Collins with a brilliant smile spread across his face.  
  
"That's alright," Collins answered in his usual deep, sexy, sensual voice, hooking his arm around Angel's waist.  
  
Fighting the incredibly urge to lean over and kiss him passionately, Angel responded to the gesture by inching closer to Collins and wrapping his own arm around his waist. "Where are we headed?" Angel asked, desperately trying to mask the anxiety and insecurity in his voice.  
  
"We should probably head over to the lot. I've gotta stop at St. Mark's place first. Roger's running low on AZT and I told him I'd pick some up."  
  
"Why can't he just get it himself?" asked Angel.  
  
"Roger hasn't left the house in about six months. The chances of him changing his mind tonight aren't very likely."  
  
"What's his deal? I mean, I don't want to be rude, but he's got a bad attitude and he's a recluse. What's up with him?"  
  
"It's probably better if you don't know..." Collins responded, guiding Angel as they strolled down the streets on their way to the shops.  
  
"It's just that... he's been a little bitter since his diagnosis, that's all."  
  
"A little?" Collins asked, skeptically.  
  
"Okay, a lot. Adjusting to something like that takes time. It's never easy."  
  
"You have a point," Angel concurred.  
  
The trio continued, Angel and Collins happily wrapped in each other's arms, and Mark with the camera hanging limp at his side. Out of nowhere, a black Lincoln town car sped down the small side street, nearly knocking them over.  
  
"Honest living, man!" a guy with a squeegee and a bucket yelled after the car. "Feliz Navidad!" He put the squeegee back in the bucket half- full with water. "Bastard."  
  
Reaching into his pocket with his free hand, Angel pulled out a twenty dollar bill. "Feliz Navidad a ti, hombre," he said softly, handing it over to the man.  
  
"Muchas gracias!" he exclaimed, looking at the crumpled bill in disbelief. "Tú eres una santa, señorita!"  
  
"You are unbelievable," Collins commented, hugging Angel even closer to his body.  
  
Blushing furiously at the compliment, Angel smiled and leaned into Collins.  
  
Sleeping on a rotting park bench was an overweight woman, her body covered in thinning winter coats. An army of three policemen dressed in washed out blue uniforms marched up behind the woman. Immediately, Mark turned on his camera to film the incident. Roughly, the policemen poked the sleeping woman with their nightsticks until she awoke from a fitful slumber.  
  
"Evening, officer," a homeless man mumbled as he strolled by. The cops turned around and found themselves staring into the clear lens of the video camera.  
  
"Smile for the camera, officer..." Mark paused for a second, squinting at the officer's badge, "Martin."  
  
With only a grunt, the policemen proceeded to march off the premises leaving the woman who had just been woken up and another woman who appeared to be a friend of hers, behind. She shook her head and rubbed her eyes with dry hands, attempting to rid them from sleep. Groggily, she looked at Mark, bitterness and anger flashing across her dark, dirty face. "Who the fuck do you think you are? Filming me for some goddamn film school documentary, are you? Well, let me tell you something, mister artist, my life is not for you to film."  
  
As usual, Angel was willing to do anything to avoid confrontation. "Take it easy, honey, he was trying to—."  
  
"Angel..." Collins mumbled, wrapping his arms around him, pulling the boy to his chest.  
  
"Just trying to do what, exactly? Use my misery for his success?" She snapped at him, practically lunging at the drag queen. Protectively, Collins hugged Angel to him, subtly glaring at the woman. From now on, nobody would lay a hand on Angel without Collins's approval. "Let's go," the woman continued, motioning for her friend to follow. "This damn street's always full of mother fuckin' artist. Hey, artist?" she barked back in Mark's direction, "You got a dollar?" Her friend shook a coffee can that rattled with a few coins inside.  
  
Shamefully, Mark put the camera down to his side again and looked away from her.  
  
"Yeah, I thought not," she grumbled, walking away.  
  
"Ah, New York," Collins sighed, watching the woman disappear into the darkness. "It's good to be home," he remarked sarcastically.  
  
"It's the center of the universe, you know," Angel piped in, remembering how Queenie would always say that whenever someone would complain about living in the city.  
  
"I've always wanted to get out of here," Mark admitted, turning on his camera, once again, to film the scene. This particular side street that they were on was even more run down and decrepit than the last few blocks they'd explored. Homeless people lined the sidewalks, sleeping under boxes, garbage cans, or whatever they could find to keep themselves moderately warm. Crumbling concrete and building completely defaced with graffiti stood proudly next to one another. Such buildings were seen throughout the area; the East Village would not be complete without them. It was a beautifully raw scene to film.  
  
"Where do you want to go?" Angel asked thinking about how he himself had always wanted to leave.  
  
"I don't know, anywhere but here? I grew up in Scarsdale and then I moved here when I went to film school at NYU. The only place I ever traveled to was Boca Raton in Florida when I was a kid, and that was only to visit my ancient grandmother."  
  
"What about you, Angel?" Collins asked, relishing the warmth he felt as Angel's body leaned against his own. "Have you ever wanted to leave here?"  
  
"I mean, I've thought about it. I went to Peru a few times with my family, but, aside from that, I haven't left. There's a lot of opportunity here, though. Queenie's a Chinese immigrant and whenever anybody complains about living here, she always says that they should be lucky to live in a place like this, because it could be a lot worse. But, yeah, I've always wanted to travel somewhere—maybe for just a visit."  
  
"Uh, who's Queenie?" Mark asked.  
  
"Oh, she's like my mother. Long story, I'll explain later."  
  
"Well, I've always wanted to go to the southwest, especially Santa Fe. I passed through there once with this college radical group I was in. it was so amazing there. I'd love to... I don't know, maybe open up a restaurant or something. Some cool, exotic, vegetarian place that poor people like us would be able to afford."  
  
"You cook?" Angel asked, intrigued. He always thought it was unbelievably sexy when men could cook. Ironic that he was with Will for so long: a man who couldn't even get the food out of the can safely. Angel nearly laughed out loud remembering that fateful night when he and Will decided to cook their own dinner. That was a disaster. A fun disaster, but a disaster nonetheless.  
  
"Are you kidding? Collins is an amazing cook. Whenever we had enough money, he'd get some ingredients and cook these crazy vegetarian dishes for us."  
  
"Wow. You don't strike me as the cooking type."  
  
"Well, I'll have to cook for you sometime and you can see for yourself."  
  
Both of them awkwardly let go of each other, blushing like mad. Mark grinned, the camera filming the uneasy interactions between Angel and Collins. "Well guys, I hate to leave you like this, but I need to get to St. Mark's to pick up Roger's prescription. If I have the time, maybe I'll try and drag him out of the house. It's at the 11th street lot between A and B. See you there!" he called, walking away, only to feel a death grip on his shoulder.  
  
"Mark!" Collins whispered to him, "You can't leave me alone with him."  
  
"It's about time you two got together already, and I know that you won't do it while I'm here."  
  
"Just... don't go!" Collins pleaded. The man rarely acted this way. Normally, he was the one comforting and supporting his friends. Tonight, the roles were reversed, and Mark was quite enjoying it.  
  
"You love him. Tell him that."  
  
In an instant, Mark was gone, a trail of smoke from a Marlboro cigarette following him. He could feel his heart nearly beating its way out of his chest as he turned to face the drag queen, who looked just as nervous.  
  
A small smile crept onto Angel's lips. "Alone at last," he said, softly.  
  
*--*--*--*--*--*--*--*--*--*--*--*--*--*--*--*--*--*--*--*--*--*--*  
  
A/N: Hope enjoyed this one. And it's a LONG one. 


	51. Chapter 50: Monogamy

Chapter 50: Monogamy  
  
Go after him. Show him that he's different. Paul's words echoed in his head as he looked over at Collins, standing awkwardly in front of him. "Yeah," Angel whispered to himself, "Go for it."  
  
With the scent of Marlboro cigarettes still lingering in the air, Collins took a deep breath, bravely facing Angel. Be cool, be smooth. You've done it before. Chill out and relax, you can be alone with him. "He'll be back soon," he announced, referring to the filmmaker who could still be seen distantly down the block.  
  
"So..." Angel mumbled, filling the silence. No matter how hard he tried to act cool and confidant, he still came off as a nervous wreck. Oh. My. God. How ridiculous can you be? Just talk to the man, its not that hard. You're a goddamn chatterbox; you've never had any trouble before. "Tell me about this show we're going to tonight. Who's performing?"  
  
"Oh, Mark's ex-girlfriend, Maureen. She went out with Mark for a couple of months." Collins didn't want to rehash the bitter breakup between Mark and Maureen. Although he hadn't been there, he'd heard enough stories to know that it was an ugly fight.  
  
"Why'd they break up?"  
  
"Maureen found someone new," he answered simply.  
  
"Oh. Have you met the guy?"  
  
Laughing awkwardly, Collins grinned. "I haven't met him and... he's a she."  
  
Angel burst into hysterical giggles. "Poor Marky. That must be a blow to his ego, having his shoes filled by some chick."  
  
"Well, that's what you get when you're in a 'committed' relationship. She cheated on him all the time anyway."  
  
Abruptly, Angel stopped laughing. "What's wrong with 'committed' relationships? I think there's a lot to be said for monogamy."  
  
"I don't know, it just seems a little unnatural to me. Like, why would you want to limit yourself to only one person for the rest of your life, when there are so many others to choose from?" Collins asked. But if monogamy meant that I could limit myself to only you, I'd do it. I'd give up every trick I've ever had. There goes half the world's gay population.  
  
See? I knew there had to be a catch. Way to go, Angel. Fall for the one guy who is COMPLETELY against monogamous relationships. You're probably no different than every other guy he's slept with, and from the way he talks, it sounds like there was a lot of them. But... maybe he would change his mind if he knew that someone, namely myself, would give their left arm to be monogamous with him. A sly grin crept onto his face, as he reached inside the pocket of his coat and pulled out a small, folded up piece of paper. "Yeah, I guess you're right. I mean I got this number from this really hot guy a few nights ago, and I wasn't sure whether I should call him or not. He seemed interested. Do you think I should? I mean, it seems sort of cheesy to call during the holidays, you know? Everyone's with their families and stuff and I don't want to interrupt anything he might be doing, but this guy is, like, so hot, and-"  
  
Ripping the number out of Angel's hand, Collins gave him a sheepish, embarrassed grin. "Well, monogamy isn't bad, per se..."  
  
You've got him exactly where you want him. Reel him in and then go for the kill. The grin that threatened to give away his scheme was beginning to spread even larger as he looked at Collins. "What are you trying to say?"  
  
You babbling, stuttering idiot. "I... I just thought monogamy seemed a little unnatural, that's all."  
  
Okay, this is your chance. Seize the day, carpe diem, and all that shit. Come on, Angel girl, you can do this. "You mean it is?" He paused. "Or it...was."  
  
"Uh... um..." Collins was reduced to nothing more than a stuttering, nervous mess.  
  
"So let me get this straight," Angel began. Ha. Me. Straight. "You're trying to tell me monogamy is unnatural, yet you literally rip up the number of some random guy that I was going to hook up with? That seems a bit inconsistent to me."  
  
"Well, uh, I..."  
  
"I think there's something you're not telling me. Are you hiding something, Collins?" Angel asked, arching an eyebrow to emphasize his point.  
  
"I... I... I just don't know anymore, okay? My entire life I've always thought monogamy was for everyone else, but tonight I feel completely different. I never even wanted a goddamn boyfriend before and the though of couples... it just used to make me sick. I don't even know what I think anymore! I'm just..." He let out a frustrated groan and crossed his arms over his chest. Way to look like an immature child.  
  
The smile still sat firmly on Angel's face. "Feel better now?"  
  
His lips turning into a sheepish grin of his own, Collins answered softly. "Yeah a little."  
  
"Good," Angel agreed quietly, putting a hand behind Collins's head and pulling him in for a deep kiss.  
  
Softly yet intensely, the two men finally kissed, touching each other in a gentle way that neither had ever felt before. Their tongues explored the soft interior of their mouths, each man savoring the kiss as if it would never happen again.  
  
Pulling away from each other, they blinked, staring in silence. "Wow," Collins mumbled, his face still close enough to Angel's so he could see the little sparkles on his lips.  
  
"I was thinking the same thing," Angel admitted. "So monogamy's not so horrifying anymore, is it?" Wrapping his arms around Collins, he stared into his eyes.  
  
"No. Not when you actually love someone enough to be with them."  
  
Angel was brought back to a time many years ago, with Queenie. When he thought he had loved Will, he'd gone to her asking what love felt like. "Baby, when it's true love, you won't even have to ask," she had said to him. At the time, he had been almost insulted by the words. Now, everything seemed to fall into place; not just Queenie's words of wisdom, but everything that he'd felt his entire life. This was love. This was what living was all about.  
  
"I love you too," Angel said confidently, taking hold of his hand.  
  
The snow danced in front of the lovers, creating a light blanket of white on the dirty streets. It was enough to make the scene story-book perfect. Holding each other, they leaned in for another kiss, knowing they'd never let go.  
  
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So this is it. This is the end of Today 4 U: Proof Positive. After a year and a half of writing this, I must say it's strange to say that I've finally completed it. I want to thank everyone who's reviewed and given me feedback, positive or negative. Your comments mean a lot to me and have helped me so much along the way. Thank you to the teachers who've helped, and to my family for editing. Especially mommy, who edited EVERY SINGLE CHAPTER after I wrote it. Thank you Rachel, my other half. If it wasn't for you, this would not have gotten done. Through this, I've met the best friend I could ever ask for. Love you to pieces To Risa, for encouraging me the entire way. Another great friend that I wouldn't have met (well, not technically, but soon enough) had it not been for this monster fic. And to all of the people that I've met through this. You've made this entire process worthwhile. By the way, his middle name is Bartholomew. 


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